Time of the Wolf
by robster72
Summary: Chapter Fifteen uploaded. Between werewolves and Lex Luthor, Gotham is in trouble. All reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. All reviews welcome! 

**Chapter One - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Five days ago - CIA Headquarters – Langley

The CIA are actively tailing 767 people worldwide and monitoring 1,234 organisations that might be a front or used for foreign intelligence or terrorist activities. They also have a database of currently 33,543 names that if they turn up in America they will be refused access. They also use advanced face recognition software based on 36 points of reference. If one of these people turns up "on the grid" it immediately sends e-mail to members of the 14 groups of the American Intelligence community and then immediately inform the local security services by an automated phone message and an e-mail to detain the individual or individuals. Unfortunately 2 hours before this individual touched down in Boston airport the servers went down in the CIA headquarters. The IT department in the building immediately subscribed this to a lightning strike affecting the power. This was to hide the fact they had put an untested patch onto the servers requiring an immediate rebuild of the system. Whatever the reasons that were throught for this, both incidentally wrong,in this two hour window of opportunity a man currently calling himself Alex Slade entered the country via Dulles International Airport and started to make his way to Gotham, a city he hadn't been back to in 15 years…

Present day…

The huge wolf loped through the darkened streets of Gotham. Its mouth was a mass of yellow teeth. A red tongue licked some blood off its snout as it started sniffing the air.

Nick Benson pulled his collar up round his neck and shook with cold. His shoes had holes in and were letting in the rain. He had spent his last couple of dollars on a hot coffee that was not deserving of either word. He had walked out of his home two years ago when the bills kept piling up and his job packed in and it seemed like he had been walking ever since.

"Lousy weather," he muttered to himself. The cops had kicked him out of the shop doorway he had been dossing in and now he had to find somewhere else to stay. He sneezed loudly and messily onto his sleeve and looked around at where he was. "Lousy cops. Lousy weather. Lousy Gotham."

His foot started squelching in something sticky on the ground. "Eerrhhh! Lousy dog walkers can't clean up after their filthy flea bitten mongrels." He looked at his foot. Whatever it was on his feet, it was not from a dog. "What the hell?" He reached down a grimy nicotine-stained finger and poked what it was. "Is that a shirt? Goddamm fine quality as well. What sort of freak would leave that about?"

Lightning flashed above him and silhouetted the scene. "Geez. It's a person. Don't lie in the street; you'll get pneumoniaks or rheumaticks. You should doss in a shop doorway, there's some round here." He lifted a hand and that moved the person's head, which lolled back like a broken marionette showing a huge red bite mark. "I'd better get the cops or something. You got a phone or a quarter or something, pal?" His practiced hands frisked the corpse and found a wallet, a mobile, some loose change, and a comb, which he threw back on the street. He had the kind of hair that ate combs.

He heard a growl behind him. "Wassat?" In the alleyway was a pair of eyes that were glowing by the glimmer of a flickering streetlight. He picked up the comb and threw it at it. The eyes retreated. "Lousy stray. Lousy weather. Lousy Gotham. Lousy junkie." He kicked at the corpse at his feet. "Whatchoo got in here then?" He opened the wallet. "Adrian Thornberry eh? Poncy name for this part of Gotham. Lessee about getting you some help." He dialled in 911 to the mobile. A voice answered after two rings.

"Which service do you require?"

"Some guy's lying dead here, darling, what do you think?"

"I'll get an ambulance, sir."

"Bit late for that, darling."

"Can you give me your location, please, sir?"

"Gotham."

There was a silence in which it was obvious he would not be more helpful. "Where in Gotham, please, sir?"

"Corner of seven and nine. Goddamm stray." The pair of glowing eyes started studying him again.

"Will a police presence be required, sir? Is the man a victim of crime?"

"Who do I sound like, Bat bleedin'man? I ain't a detective, darling, but unless he chewed his own neck off I would say he was. That's a big dog. Get back, you flea bitten mutt, unless you want my fleas to fight your fleas. Geez!" There was a ripping sound and then the sound of a phone hitting the sidewalk followed by a larger thumping sound…

* * *

The oily black water of the Gotham River slapped against the harbour walls. A century ago this had been a busy thriving port, the lifeblood of Gotham. Huge warehouses lined the harbour. Each of them now abandoned and rotten. Home only to families of drunks or drug addicts. 

This is a part of Gotham that few visit; even to the police it is off limits. The gangs deal with any crimes in their own inimitable way. Like cavemen of old, people set up fires outside the doors of where they have taken up shelter. The glowing of fires inside the building gives some of the buildings a hellish look, which is very apt considering some of the denizens in them.

At the top of the building was a horned shape accompanied by another smaller demon.

"There it is," said Batman, pointing down at the end of the pier.

They released a couple of high tensile lines and rappelled down the building. In seconds they were stalking up the pier. The whole building was silent and Batman sensed that people were watching, unseen, through the windows.

The car was silhouetted against the moon, looking skeletal in the half-light. The rain was just beating out the flames and the oily black smoke curled in sinister shapes by the light of the full moon.

"We're too late, it's been burnt out," said Robin. The boy sniffed around the car. "Some sort of accelerant has been used."

"Good," said Batman. "What kind?"

"Gas?"

Batman gave a small almost imperceptible shake of his head. "No, think before you speak."

"Lighter fluid?"

Batman did not say a word.

"Lighter fluid," Robin said more firmly.

Batman nodded his head once imperceptibly.

"Why's it been burnt out?" said Batman. "Why here? Why did he burn it out? The locals?"

"Because it's cold, wet and spooky round here?"

Batman tried not to smile. "Look at the car…"

"I'm looking at it. Not much to see." In the lightning flash he could make out the tires that had melted to the frame; inside he could see the CD player was warped to the dashboard by the heat. The glass had shattered in the heat and the bonnet had twisted.

Several dark silhouettes started to appear in the doorways, all wielding various makeshift weapons.

"What's wrong with this car in this area?"

"It's a nice car. Decent wheels. Too good for this area. So it was stolen, so what?"

Batman sounded disappointed. "You think it was stolen. What else do you think?"

"I think I wanna get out of the rain, Batman. I'm meeting Angela in an hour. We've lost the guy. It happens. Let's go."

"Come on, Robin. Think."

"It still has its tires and the CD player."

"So?"

"So if it was stolen why not take that out first?" He swept an arm back to show the buildings behind them. "These people would take them first."

Several shadowy shapes started to surround them. "We don't like costumes here! Freak boy!" One of the men was huge, over seven feet tall. He was wielding a huge metal bar like a broadsword of old.

Batman ignored them. "Why do you think he burnt it out?"

"I'm going to cave your head in, Batfreak!"

"To hide evidence? He knew you were after him?"

"Where would he put the evidence?"

"I said I'm going to cave your head in, Batfreak!" he said in a more petulant tone.

"In the glove compartment?"

Batman smiled. "Take a look."

"It's melted shut," said Robin, trying to lever it open.

"Are you two listening to me?" The rain was dripping off the huge man as he lunged at Batman with the metal bar.

Without even looking behind him Batman grabbed the man's arm. The metal bar swished millimetrically over his head and crashed against the burnt out car, popping open the glove compartment.

"Thanks," said Robin. Another thug swung at Robin with a baseball bat that had several rusty razor blades stuck in the side. A foot lanced out from under Robin's cloak and hit a nerve centre under the thug's arm, making him drop the club and yelp in pain; a roundhouse kick knocked him out of the game for good. Another unseen foe threw a half brick at Robin from the darkness. He swept an arm round, plucking it from the air before it would have brained him, and sent it back into the darkness with an unerring aim. There was a shout from the darkness and a thump sound as it knocked him out.

He turned around to see Batman talking to the seven-foot thug. Well, talking brings to mind a civilised chat. If your idea of a civilised chat is an arm around the neck and a boot in the small of the back whilst black-cloaked man hisses instructions in your ear, then you probably need a dictionary. This was not civilised.

"Where did the man go who burnt out this car?"

"I'm not telling you anything, man!"

"You don't understand your situation." Batman pushed the man's face down against the moss covered concrete. "If you don't start talking here, I'll start breaking bones. You got ten fingers to start with."

"I'll tell you, man! I'll tell you! He was a big guy. Taller than me! Wearing a black raincoat with a yellow rubber mask on or something. He had a chainsaw with him. Bill tried to stop the freak but he killed him, man, he sliced him clean open!"

"What were you going to do to him?"

"Just rough him up a bit, say we don't like visitors sort of thing."

"You're lucky any of you are alive. Which way did he go?"

"I can't point, man, you've got my hands behind my back."

Batman loosed his grip and the big man got to his feet. "He's heading to the East side."

"Thank you, sir, you've been very co-operative; if he returns I suggest you stay indoors." Batman turned to his partner. "What was in the glove compartment?"

"Looks like the remains of his driver's licence and passport. It's too charred to read now."

"Bring it with us, we might be able to analyse it later. Find out who we are dealing with." Batman pressed a button on his belt and there was a roaring sound from the darkness and a twin glow, like eyes.

The Batmobile cruised towards them, scattering a group of junkies who were huddled round a burning barrel. The doors hissed open on the car and they leapt in. The car doors hissed shut behind them. "Where next, Batman?" asked Robin. "I've got a date tonight."

"Where would you go next?"

"You're the detective."

"You're meant to be learning."

"I'm tired, cold and wet. I wanna go home."

"We catch him, and then we go home."

"Geez Bruce, were you ever young?"

He chuckled. "Once, a long time ago. Come on, where next? Time is against us."

"Well, he was heading towards the East side, that's the shopping centre. Won't be open at this time of night."

"So why are we back in the car?"

"CCTV footage?"

"Exactly." He pressed a button on the console. "Oracle, this is Batman. We're trailing the killer; he's heading up the East side on foot. Can you patch into the CCTV cameras?"

"What's the description?"

"Over seven foot tall and a black coat."

"This is Gotham, a few more specifics please?"

"A chainsaw."

"Still not helping."

"Wearing a Homer Simpson mask."

"That'll do."

Batman sat still, looking at the rain running down the windscreen as they cruised down a Gotham street towards the East side. "Got him, Batman. Looks like he's just chain sawing himself into a Ford motor showroom. You'd better put that foot down before he gets mobile again."

The last few words of Oracle were drowned out by the throaty sound of the Batmobile as it leapt up the street, dodging the few pedestrians that were about in such a grim night.

"Where were you planning on taking her?" asked Batman.

"Who?"

"Angela, who do you think?"

"I dunno, movie and some fries or something?"

"Do you like this girl?"

Robin went red. "Let's just get this murderer, right, Bruce?"

Batman chuckled and then grimaced as he looked at the road in front of him. Earlier in the week the road had caved in and fallen into the subway below, along with sewage pipes, huge bundles of electricity cables and the water pipes. The city engineers said it was a mixture of age and the constant vibrations of traffic that the engineers of nearly a century ago hadn't planned on. The only reason no one got killed was it happened at 3 am. If it had happened at rush hour it would have been carnage.

One of the more imaginative of Gotham's citizens had daubed a huge clown's face on the awnings surrounding it and the words "Hah! Hah!" in purple paint. The Batmobile screeched to a halt and they both leapt out of the armoured car and ran down the one open pavement past what was now a building site.

The showroom was just on the other side of the pit. There he was! A huge black shape loomed in the doorway of the building, a chainsaw in each hand. He hissed at them and retreated into the blackness of the car showroom.

A cry of, "D'oh! It's Batman! Why you little…" could be heard echoing around the showroom.

"You keep the exits clear," said Batman, not looking at Robin.

"What are you going to do?"

"Going in after him."

"I'm supposed to be learning, how can I learn out here?"

"You can learn by doing what you're told." Batman clicked down the starlight lenses on his cowl and stalked into the doorway. The world seemed to have an ethereal green glow to him. The shapes of cars loomed up over both sides of him.

Where was he?

He went back to the doorway and began to start a coordinated search around the showroom. There was two reasons for this, firstly to get an idea of the layout of the building, possible hiding places his quarry could be in, and thus to be able to cut him off. The second reason was to hopefully encounter his prey at a strange unexpected angle. Not just walk up to him.

Batman walked as quietly as a breeze. His fingers nervously clutched a batarang in each hand.

Where was he?

Bang!

A door slammed shut in front of him and Batman ran towards the sound. That was the door to the roof!

Zzzzzzzzzz!

The chainsaw lanced towards him from the side. Somehow he ducked it and rolled into a combat position. He struck out twice, blows that would fell any mortal man. The shape staggered back and his mask fell off.

Batman felt cold and literally staggered back in shock. It was a face he had not seen in fifteen years.

"D'oh!" The man sniffed and grinned. "Nice to smell you again, Wayne." He raised a chainsaw above his head and lanced towards Batman for the killing stroke…

Caught by a trap that wouldn't fool a girl scout. He cursed to himself and could see a chain saw above his head about to be dropped for the killing stroke…

* * *

Fifteen years ago… 

The limousine purred up the concrete semi-circular drive to Gotham's finest private school. Already several expensive cars were disgorging the children of Gotham's elite. A row of oak trees surrounded the entrance way and a painter was just busy touching up the sign outside. The rain was clearing and Bruce clambered out of the limousine to school.

"You have your sandwiches, Master Bruce?"

"I'll be fine, Alfred."

"You have your homework?"

"It's in my bag, just stop mothering me."

"As you say, sir." Alfred glanced over at him. "I'll be here at 4:15, sir."

"We've got the school trip today; I dunno what time I'll be back. I'll walk back. I'll walk. Honestly, I'll be fine. I'm not a little kid anymore; I can look after myself."

"Your parents would not have wanted you walking the streets of Gotham on your own, sir. Please call me when you need collecting."

"Please spare me the guilt trip," said Bruce. "I'll see you later… Possibly."

"Goodbye, sir." said Alfred.

He worried too much, thought Bruce as he watched the black limousine drive off. Ever since his parents had died he seemed to have appointed himself his unofficial guardian. He put his rucksack over one shoulder (only geeks used both straps) and strolled under the triple arched portico entranceway to the school grounds.

Two boys were waiting for Bruce. "Hey, Brucey boy, how's it hanging?"

Bruce gave a grin. "Slightly to the left. Depends which way the breeze is blowing. All right there, Thornberry?"

"Middlin', middlin."

"Middlin?" asked Bruce. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Is Alfred still mothering you?" said Adrian Thornberry.

"You know what he's like." In the corner of the school could be seen four boys kicking a boy on the floor. His face darkened. "What are they doing?"

The other boy, a rather overweight lad, said. "They're playing kick the Kevin." He giggled a bit. "If you're called Kevin you have to be kicked unless you answer the question."

"What's the question?"

"I think the last one was do you want to be kicked 47 or 48 times?" said Adrian. "They're kicking him until he answers, basically."

"Someone will get hurt."

"Oh, don't worry about that; they're using their shoes, they won't hurt their feet."

Bruce cracked his knuckles together and walked up to the group. He pushed the two bullies back off their victim. "Back off, Carson."

"Back off yourself, Wayne. Your butler isn't here to mother you now."

"You want to try kicking me, Carson?" He pushed him back and stared in his eyes. "You wanna try it? Come on, Carson. Push me about. Try it. Come on."

"Back off, Wayne, you're a psycho. I don't wanna fight a psycho." At the end of this he launched a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce's vision exploded in a blaze of light and his mouth tasted of tin. He was thrown back onto the playground and rolled himself up to his feet in a second and was just about to launch a punch of his own when he heard a voice shouting.

"Mr Wayne and Mr Carson, I will not having fighting in my school. See me after school."

Bruce and Carson turned round sullenly and said. "Yes sir." They waited for the headmaster to turn around and Carson turned to Wayne. "I'll get you for that, Wayne. After school."

"Like I'm scared."

"You should be, Wayne, you should be."

Bruce glowered at Carson's back as he loped off into the school. "You need to control your temper, Bruce," said Adrian. "You could get hurt if you don't watch out. Come on now, let's get to class."

Two hours later they were on a coach heading out of Gotham on a field trip. The teacher had banned most of the songs the children had tried to start singing and they were now singing a halfhearted "100 green bottles hanging on a wall". Even with this one Adrian managed to add in a few extra side comments to riotous displays of cheering from the rest of the boys.

They filed out of the coach. The teacher blew a whistle and they all formed up in a line. "Okay, you will all team in groups of four." He pulled out a register. "First four is Carson, Wayne, Thornberry and Buckler." He quickly teamed all the others up into groups of four. "Remember, you are doing a phase one environmental survey of this area. We are very lucky to be here. This area has belonged to the Military for the past fifty years and is pretty much untouched since then. You have a map and you have the guide. Meet here in two hours time. Any questions?"

Adrian and Lou immediately put up their hands.

"About the task in hand," carried on the teacher. "I don't want any questions about where do babies come from or anything of that ilk." Adrian's hand stayed up.

"Are there any unexploded bombs about?"

"No, it was not used as a firing range."

"Are there any tanks about?"

"No, as far as I know this area was just for survival training exercises."

"Will we have to eat worms and stuff?"

"If you like, just get on with it please. Any other questions?" he asked quickly. "Splendid. Carry on then…"

"I don't want to be in your team," muttered Carson.

"Well, we don't want you being in our team either," said Bruce. "Just shut up and we'll get on fine."

They grabbed their rucksacks and started to walk into the woods, twigs and leaves crunching underfoot. "Hey, shouldn't we be making notes?" said Bruce.

"We'll start off over here first of all." The woods loomed up over their heads. The distant cry of crows could be heard in the distance. "Well, this bit is obviously woods."

"Yes, but what type of woods is it?" said Bruce. "We should take a leaf sample."

"A tree's a tree's a tree," said Carson. "Who cares?"

The sound of the rest of their classmates soon disappeared into the background. The trees were knotted and moss covered. Several creatures disappeared into the branches and the mournful cry of a crow was in the distance.

"This has to be far enough to get started," said Bruce. "Let's start identifying trees."

"Screw that," said Carson. "We've got a day without the teachers; let's have a bit of fun. You need to lighten up a bit, Wayne."

"We don't want to get lost," said Adrian.

"Shut it Thornberry," said Carson. "I never liked you either." He suddenly stopped and started listening. "What's that noise?"

"What noise?" said Bruce.

"That noise, dum dum." Carson started walking towards a pile of rocks in the middle of the forest.

"There's no noise," said Bruce. "Come on, we've got to get started."

"Yes there is; it's coming from under these rocks."

Bruce looked at the rocks. They seemed to be covering a huge hole in the ground. "It's a rabbit hole, moron."

"Anybody got a torch?" said Carson.

"We're on a field trip in the day time, why would any of us have a torch with us?" said Thornberry.

"I've got one," said Bruce.

"Why'd you bring a torch with you, muppet?" said Carson.

"Being organised."

The light pierced the stygian blackness of the pit. "I've got a bad feeling about this," said Thornberry. "Why don't we just get started on this project and get back to the coach?"

"What the hell is that?" said Carson. "Hey Wayne, take a look at this." Carson pointed with his torch into the cave. Bruce looked over the edge of the cave to see and suddenly he was pushed. His hands scrabbled for a handhold but there was nothing there and he fell into the stygian blackness of the cave. The laugh of Carson was ringing in his ears as he fell into the inky blackness…


	2. Chapter 2

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Two - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Batman slapped the chainsaw back with his hand, his hand was swift and sure, and more to the point with the same number of fingers he started off with. He sent another hand into the throat of the man and simultaneously kicked him in the stomach. The man dropped the blood-soaked chainsaw, which fell with a clatter and a roar onto the ground. Batman kicked the chainsaw into pieces and turned to face his foe, who he saw was running for the stairs.

He threw the batarang at the back of his head and to his astonishment it bounced off his head and the man did not stop running one iota. He cursed to himself and ran after him.

At least he was disarmed now. Batman ran up the stairs, leaping up four stairs at a time. This guy was fast. He somehow seemed to be faster running up the stairs. He passed a yellow slightly curling sign saying "Authorised Personnel Only" and realised he had chased the man onto the roof.

He controlled his breathing and looked around him. The rain was lancing into his eyes threatening his night vision. The full moon gave the roof a strange ethereal glow. Dark shadows cast part of the roof into blackness.

Concentrate.

As silently as a shadow he stalked towards an air conditioning unit. The thud thud thud sound of the unit permeated his hearing, stopping him hearing what was around him. Next to the unit was dry since the rain had not swept into it and there was a footprint.

He was close,

Very close.

A shape leapt out of the shadows next to him. Batman flicked his wrist to send a batarang whirling towards where the head should be. It didn't slow him down. The air was pushed out of Batman's lungs as he was thrown towards a water tank on the roof. He spun in midair to control his flight and kicked back to send himself hurtling back towards his foe.

He was gratified by the look of shock on the man's face as he crashed into him. He sent two punches into his stomach and one to his jaw. A combination that should knock him out.

Nothing. He was grabbed by the cloak and thrown towards the edge of the roof. Batman grabbed the handrail and spun around it, sending a two-footed kick into his assailant's stomach. Somehow the man seemed to change shape and he lashed out at Batman.

Claws ripped into his cloak and for a second Batman saw a mouth that was a gaping mass of incisors. Then it changed back to what it was.

It couldn't be, could it?

Not again?

The man was incredibly strong and he picked up Batman and carried him to the edge of the building. Batman wrapped his arms around his assailant and got a lock on him to push him back towards the centre of the roof. Somehow he found his force working against himself and he was forcefully thrown off the roof and into the blackness of the streets so far below…

Not a problem. He reached to his belt to get a grappling hook and he sent it flying through the air to land in the only place it could. He swung down to the streets below and landed with barely a splash in a huge puddle that had formed in the broken road. He attached the line to a small motor on his belt and was whisked swiftly back up to the roof.

On another roof a clear thirty feet away he could see a black shape loping away. It leapt again onto another roof and was lost in the gloom of Gotham.

He cursed quietly to himself and leapt off the roof again, slowing down his descent at the last second. Robin was waiting for him.

"Where is he?"

"Gone," said Batman. "As are we. We need to get back to the cave, now."

"Do you know who that was?"

Batman stopped and looked at him. "I think so; I thought he was dead, to be honest. I first met him when I was about your age…"

* * *

Lou Buckler wiped his forehead and stopped dancing. The Salsa dance teacher, a pretty blonde girl, said, "Right, well done everyone! You're all coming along marvellously. We've got ten minutes of music before the advanced class so if you feel like carrying on dancing feel free."

Lou was feeling on top of the world, his dancing was coming along well. He walked up to one of the girls in the class. "Do you fancy a dance?"

She gave him a pitying look. "I don't dance with ugly men."

"Well, we both have something in common then. Do you want a drink before the dance?"

"What part of no do you not get, loser?"

"Your poor parents, I bet you were a bundle of laughs when you were a kid!"

"What are you talking about? Are you insulting me?"

"I doubt you would recognise if I were!" He danced a quick side step in front of her. "Shall we?"

"Oh, why not then. This doesn't mean I fancy you or anything." She poked him in his ample stomach with one finger.

"Thank god," he muttered under his breath. "I'm having trouble with my single right turn."

"That's because I'm meant to turn, not you. You're the man."

"That explains it. Is it me or is it drafty in here?"

"Someone's left the door open," she said, leaning over. Screaming started erupting around the dance floor as a huge wolf stalked in.

"Oh no, not again," said Lou and started running towards the end of the dance floor. In seconds the wolf had reached him and started ripping into him with his teeth.

* * *

The car purred through the early evening traffic, effortlessly passing a Ford GTX1 Roadster, the Batmobile's engine hardly turning over. For a few seconds the driver of the Roadster tried to keep up, its engine reaching a high pitched whining sound before he gave up. Blue lights behind him saw the roadster being pulled in for speeding.

"So how do you know him?"

"I told you, I met him when I was about your age, but it can't be him. It just can't be." Batman pressed a button on his dashboard. "Alfred, this is Batman. Can you trace Lou Buckler and Adrian Thornberry for me? Also look up Alec Slade while you're there."

"The first two are your old school acquaintances, are they not? Alec Slade, now there's a tempest from the past."

"Yes."

"It pains me that you have lost touch with so many of your old acquaintances, sir."

"You know, Alfred, we all move on; get different interests, don't have the same hobbies any more."

There was the sound of some clicking and muttering from Alfred's side. "I have some sad news to impart, sir. I'm afraid that both Lou Buckler and Adrian Thornberry have had an untimely demise, both this evening curiously enough. I can not trace Mr Slade, but that is no real surprise, sir, I would have to try some other databases for that."

Batman clenched the wheel of his car, nearly making a mark in the moulded plastic. "How did they die?"

"Apparently they have been ripped apart by some sort of creature…" There was the sound of clicking. "I'm just checking the local zoos to see if there are dangerous animals…"

"Don't bother, Alfred. It's back again. If it's been hunting down Buckler and Thornberry it might go after me as well. Where are you?"

"In the cave, sir. I've taken the liberty of unplugging your printer and putting in a kettle. It really does lack some of the basic niceties of…"

"Lock the door to the upstairs. You might be getting a visitor soon."

"Dear lord."

"Stay in the light, we'll be back as soon as we can." He pressed the accelerator and the car shot off into the night…

* * *

Alfred cupped the tea in one hand and sipped it. He shivered a bit. This wretched cave was draughty, damp and cold. It really was not the place to have an office. He had a small plate of biscuits next to him and he nibbled at a shortcake biscuit and sipped some more tea.

There was a rustling sound behind him.

He whipped around but could see nothing from the depths of the cave. Stay in the light, what ridiculous advice. If it really were hunting him he would need more than a 40-watt bulb to protect him. He carried on looking in the database. Alec Slade. Alec Slade.

He had checked the CIA, Mossad, MI6 and Interpol's records but found nothing there on him. To be honest, he had not really expected to find any records, Slade was too careful for that. He had found two references to him, both with regards to a series of killings on the Siberian/China border.

However it was a tenuous link at best and from the little he knew of the man he would have no reason to be in that area. He should have no reason to be living and breathing, to be honest. He might try the dramatically named Oracle. He pressed a communicator button.

"Oracle my dear, this is Alfred. I trust you are keeping well?"

The communicator crackled to life. "Alfred, I thought you'd been quiet tonight. He's got you working as well, has he?"

"A normal night, Oracle, a normal night."

"Are you trying out that herbal tea I recommended? It's good for rheumatism."

Alfred shuddered. The tea had smelt like it had been swept off the floor at the monkey house. He had quietly thrown it away. "I'm drinking tea now, it really is wonderful."

"Well, I hope it works for you. What can I help you with?"

"Alec Slade."

"Alec Slade. I assume you have Googled him?"

He chuckled to himself. The advent of the Internet had helped the searches they carried out, that was for sure. "First thing I did. I have tried all the normal channels."

"I doubt I will have any other success, but I will look for you…"

There was a rustling sound behind him and he looked behind him again. Getting twitchy at his age. Ridiculous. He pressed a button under the desk and the cave was lit by huge floodlights. The roof was a moving mass of bats that twitched, screeched and flapped about in the unaccustomed light.

Stay in the light.

Suddenly the advice seemed sound.

* * *

The head of the CIA was his normal irritable self. He started off at 5:30 everyday and worked through till ten at night. He was normally a real workhorse; he thrived on long days and longer weekends. The report had been sent to Langley not ten minutes ago and now he was reading it. He pressed a button on his desk.

"Marjorie, you got any of those headache tablets?"

"I'll bring some in now, sir."

"And a glass of water."

His head was throbbing. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep was what his doctor told him, not that that helped him now. Damn doctors. Easy for them to say. They didn't have the security of the country to deal with.

His door slid open and Marjorie walked in with a glass of water and some tablets. "There you are, sir. I was wondering if I could head off now, sir."

He looked at his watch with surprise. It was only 9pm.

"It's just I haven't spoken to my children the past three days."

"Of course, you go. You couldn't e-mail me the number of Bob Mueller, the head of the FBI, on your way out could you? I've reorganised my mailbox and now I can't find a blamed thing."

"Of course, sir."

Internal security was the FBI's field, not the CIA's. They had no internal police powers, damn it. He hated having to kow tow to the FBI.

The computer bleeped as it received an e-mail. "Thanks Marjorie," he shouted to the door. "Have a good night."

He quickly dialled the number. "Hi Bob, its Porter here. You're not heading home are you? No? Good." He clicked on a document on his screen. "I've got a report here that makes interesting reading. Were you ever involved in that case involving Ciardarn Killach fifteen years ago, or was he using the name Alec Slade at the time?" He chuckled at the expletives from the other end of the phone. "Yeah, him. I was just a junior agent at the time. Weren't you Special Agent in Charge of the Gotham field office at the time? That whole incident was handled badly from start to finish. No offence to you, it wasn't your call. The only good thing that came out of it is that most of the people involved are six feet under, most of them in more pieces than they started off with, that's for damn sure. Anyway it looks like our friend has surfaced in Gotham again; I think you should alert the GPD, we'll need more bodies on the street before we start getting more bodies on the street. If it's right, it's really going to be hitting the fan over there and I don't want to be anywhere near it. We'll talk tomorrow. Say hello to your lovely wife from me. Bye."

He thrummed his fingers against the desk whilst he thought. He dropped one of the headache tablets into the glass and watched it dissolve and hiss into the water. What to do? What to do? If Alec Slade was really back, and this report seemed to verify that, then he needed to be liquidated and fast, he knew too much. The problem was they didn't have police jurisdiction internally.

What the hell? He just wouldn't tell the White House and if the Senate asked he would lie. By the time anyone found out the truth he would long since have retired. That was a mess he did not want to be in any way implicated in, but with a bit of luck he would be living out his last years on a tropical island before anyone found out.

* * *

The tall man leapt off the roof of the building and onto a fire escape. With a series of easy leaps he made it to the alleyway. He landed in a pile of a black sacks that oozed rubbish and a foul stench onto the street. A black cat hissed at him and ran into a doorway to study him with cold green eyes.

He winced as he held onto his ribs. That masked man had a hell of a punch on him. If he didn't know better he would say he wasn't human, he certainly had the look of the devil in him. He'd lost his chain saw as well. Well, this was Gotham, he could always pick up another weapon he was sure of that, but not one of his own special specifications.

He looked in his pocket for a list of names. Lou Buckler, Adrian Thornberry and Bruce Wayne. The first two were dead, that just left Bruce Wayne. He walked out of the alleyway and into the streets of Gotham. He winced when he saw the full moon above him.

* * *

The Batmobile leapt through the streets of Gotham. Out of town the cars got more and more sparse. The garish neon lights of a few street cafes pierced the air.

"So we're looking for a huge wolf-like beast then?"

"Yes." As Batman passed a side street he saw a gleam of eyes. In a screech of brakes he spun the car around so the headlights were facing the street.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Robin.

"There," said Batman, pointing. There, held in the headlights like a rabbit staring at a torch was a huge dog, looking like a hound of hell in the glare. "Stay in the car."

"Well, if you insist," said Robin rather too quickly, still staring at the beast.

With a hiss the door opened and Batman slowly got out. He quietly considered his tranquilliser darts. They had been tested on people but not on animals. He had even tested it on Alfred once. He stopped when Alfred threatened to stop cooking him his favourite meal. He'd been knocked out for six hours; it had been a nightmare. Bruce could use a saucepan as a weapon to knock out any number of thugs but he hadn't been trained to use it to cook pasta. When Alfred saw the state of the kitchen afterwards he nearly had to use another tranquilliser dart on him.

The problem was the sedative that was in effect a mild poison; in an animal it might be fatal.

The beast started growling at him.

How do you placate an angry dog? He knew any number of ways of knocking out a human. It was a big beast, that was for sure. He started to tie one of his lines into a lasso. If he could get it round its neck he could tie another cord round those fearsome fangs of its and get it under control.

"Easy, Fido," he growled at it.

There was a horrible snarling sound that sounded like this beast would be happier tearing a tiger to pieces than sitting here staring at Batman.

He tried changing his tone to a more honeyed voice. It didn't sound quite right coming from under his mask but he tried his best. He knew a bit about Pavlovian and Operant conditioning but somehow the words just disappeared into a mist when faced with this beast. "Sit down. Sit, there's a good dog."

With a fiendish skill he lassoed the dog and his muzzle and he wrapped an arm around his neck. The dog was growling loudly at him but he had muzzled it quite effectively.

This dog was wearing a collar…

"Is that our killer?" asked Robin, who had crept up behind him.

"Unlikely," said Batman reading the collar. "This dog is apparently called Fluffy. If lost, please return to 1232 Seventh Street." Somehow a big red tongue licked Batman's face through the makeshift muzzle he had put on it. It was a huge Doberman Pinscher and now he was up close to it, it seemed as soft as butter.

"We'd better get going…" said Robin.

"We can't just leave it here…" said Batman.

"It's not going to get mugged by a cat, is it? Let's go."

"We'll just drop it off first; it's on the way back." He looked down at the dog. It was staring up at him with adoring eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

"It's not sitting next to me."

"Where else is it going to go?" Batman pushed the dog into the car and sat down next to it.

"It's dribbling on me!"

"Don't encourage it."

"How do you encourage a dog to dribble?"

"Can you get its tail out of my face, I'm trying to drive!"

"It smells," said Robin.

"It's damp, of course it smells. It probably thinks you smell. We're nearly there."

A few seconds later they pulled up outside 1232 Seventh Street. "Come on, you stupid mutt," growled Batman. The dog snarled at him. "I mean come on, Fluffy."

"I'll stay in the car."

"Fine, won't be long." Returning a dog to its owner. That was the sort of thing Clark would do. He was always good at this sort of thing. The dog was growling at him again. "Come on, Fluffy." Dogs probably never growled at him either. I mean, Fluffy. What sort of owner calls his dog Fluffy? No wonder it was in a bad mood and escaped.

He got a surprised look from a little old lady in the corridor and a muttered comment of: "Not another one." He just glowered at her. He couldn't have this getting out. Ring the doorbell; hand over the dog. Easy as that.

He pressed the buzzer. Sounded like a party was going on in there. Great, he hated having to explain his costume.

The door creaked open, the sound of music blasted out into the corridor. A man in a tight black leather costume with chains on it opened the door. "You must be a friend of Gavin's. I don't know you but I love what you've done with the costume!"

"I'm just returning your dog," said Batman, handing over the lead.

"Oh, you found Fluffy; I don't know how to thank you!" The dog wagged his tail in enjoyment and started licking his face. "Oh sweetikins, wonderful to have you back again."

"I'm just off now…"

Another man appeared at the door. "Oh, are you the stripper? I love your costume; how do you peel off the chest plate? Do you have snaps in the back or do you use Velcro? You couldn't give us a twirl, could you, ducky?"

With as much dignity as he could muster Batman stalked back up the corridor. Some days he hated his job…

His communicator buzzed in his ear. "Sir, this is Alfred; Oracle has found out some information on Alec Slade…"

* * *

**_Fifteen years ago…_**

Pain lanced through Bruce's shoulder as he landed roughly on the floor of the cave. Up above him he could hear the sound of laughter.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Hey! Come back!" As things to shout it was not particularly original he would have to admit.

Now how the hell was he going to get out of here?

"At least leave me the torch!" he yelled. There was a swishing sound from above and something hit him in the stomach. "Ouch!" His fingers felt in the darkness for the torch and he clicked it on.

"Stay there Bruce!" said Thornberry. "We'll go and get something to help you climb up! Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"Well, yes you do actually."

"Get me the hell out of here!" He flashed the torch around the cave. A bit like the cave he had fallen into under Wayne Manor really. Well, not exactly, he would have to admit. The cave under Wayne Manor was a marvel of glistening lime stone stalagmites and stalactites. The very floor was nearly knee deep in bat guano and thousands of tiny skeletons of bats represented the hundreds of generations of bats that had lived there.

Here it had no bats. He flicked the torch up to the roof. Water dripped wetly onto his head and he felt a cold feeling down his spine as it trickled down. He shivered.

"Get help quickly," he said. "We've got to finish our report." Carson was an idiot. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be pushed down here. What a moron. When he got out of here he'd teach Carson a lesson.

What's that up there? He flicked off the torch and looked up at the roof. There was a filigree of cracks opening up. He could see the shapes of Carson, Thornberry and Buckler all crouched over the edge of the hole.

"Guys, the roof is not stable, you shouldn't stand up there!"

"Hey Wayne, it's stood for thousands of years, I don't think it'll collapse now." There was a rumbling sound as the roof collapsed sending all of the kids into the cave below in a welter of dust and debris.

Carson got to his feet and shook himself off. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! This is all your fault, Wayne!"

"My fault? You pushed me down here, moron!"

"Woah guys, lets get it together here," said Thornberry. They had fallen about twenty feet into the cave. "How the hell did we get into this mess?"

"We're in so much trouble," said Buckler.

"The sides are smooth," said Bruce, looking at the cave. "The cave goes further back. Let's see if there's another way out."

"I'm not going that way, man," said Carson. "Haven't you seen the movies? We'll get picked off one by one by some slathering monster!"

"A monster?" said Buckler. "How old are you? Monsters don't exist. They're just something our moms say to make us eat our greens."

"Come on, we've got to get out of here."

"We don't know what's down here!" said Carson. His voice was starting to get slightly higher pitched.

"Do you know a better way to find out?" said Bruce, grinning slightly at this show of fear. "Don't tell me you're scared of the dark?"

"What? No! Course not. It's just that…"

"Just think of this torch as a night light…"

"Right."

Bruce clicked off the torch, flooding the cave with darkness. "Woahh!"

"Aaaaah!" yelled Carson.

Bruce clicked the torch back on again and put the light under his chin giving his features a demonic look. "Just kiddin' around. Come on guys, lets get out of here."

"What's this on the floor?" asked Bruce. There was a small square of card on the ground. Just like a business card really. He shone the torch on it. It just had a simple name on it. Alec Slade.

Strange. He threw it back on the cave floor. "Come on, let's get going."

"There could be anything down here!"

"The only thing down here is us," said Bruce. "All we've go to do is find a way out." There was a strange mournful howl that echoed and re-echoed through the cave. "I mean what could possibly go wrong?"

The tap, tap, tap sounds of their footfalls echoed and re-echoed throughout the cave. There was a steady drip, drip, drip of water that soon soaked them through.

"Where the hell are we going?" asked Carson.

"I don't know," said Bruce. "I didn't bring a map with me. Did you think of that before pushing me down here?"

"Huh! Huh! It was funny though, you gotta admit it."

Bruce stopped abruptly. "What's this?" In front of him was a breezeblock wall. It looked poorly constructed and seemed to seal off a large part of the cave. He flashed the torch over the wall; in one corner was a pile of breezeblocks, right next to a hole in the wall.

There was a whimpering sound coming from the other side of the wall. What could it be?

Nervously he shone the torch into the room. For a second a pair of eyes glowed at him from the far side of the room. Then he could make out a man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit who was chained by one arm to a huge metal ring through the concrete floor. The man was gaunt and emaciated. Several weeks' growth of beard clung to his pale face and what looked ominously like blood stains spattered the front of his clothes.

There was a clinking of chains as the man crawled towards him. It was then he realised that the man had somehow smashed his way through the wall but he hadn't been strong enough to break the chain. The chain round his neck was glistening a silver colour in the light of the torch; his neck was red and raw where the chain has been next to his skin.

There was a clinking sound and the man leapt towards him, his fangs exposed…


	3. Chapter 3

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Three - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Alfred's voice echoed around the inside of the Batmobile, his voice given a tinny quality by the speakers.

"The name Alex Slade first appears on the records thirty-seven years ago. He was born to a Mr Brian Slade and Mrs Zoe Slade in Gotham State Hospital at 3:37 am. No respecter of time evidently. The poor little mite was pronounced dead at 3:41 according to the death certificate. It appears that Alex Slade is an assumed name."

"That would make sense…"

"Anyway, Oracle decided to do a bit of digging for any curious incidents before that…"

Batman sighed inwardly. Alfred with his air for the dramatic was saving his trump card till last.

"Seventeen years ago Ciardarn Killach disappeared in a conflagration that also destroyed Chawley Hall in Oxfordshire, England. Killach is an old Celtic name and the house and land has been in the Killach family since 1066 when the Normans invaded the country. The land and its villages were given to the Killach family by William the Conquerer himself for helping to subdue the area. What a Celtic family was doing helping the Normans, Lord alone knows."

"So he's part of an old family; my family came over on the Mayflower with the Pilgrim Fathers."

"My family came over on the Titanic," said Robin. "They had to swim the last bit."

Alfred and Batman ignored this last comment. "This is where it gets interesting, sir. Oracle has done some delving into the archives and it seems that this part of Oxfordshire has had a history of gruesome murders stretching back hundreds of years."

"Define gruesome," said Robin.

"Ripped apart."

"That's gruesome."

In the background an alarm sounded. "Forgive me sir; there is someone at the main gate."

"Check the camera first."

There was a brief silence. "It appears to be an old lady. Probably distributing religious pamphlets. I will just send her on her way, sir."

"Be careful."

There was a studied silence. Just enough to suggest the suggestion was foolish but not enough to be marked as rudeness. "Of course, sir."

* * *

The outside of the apartment block was a bleak concrete grey. Rust was weeping from the iron reinforcements in the wall making it look like the building was bleeding. At the bottom of the building was the burnt out and dilapidated stores that had once been there to "bring a sense of community to this beautiful dwelling." Puddles formed on the sidewalk below the block and several ferns and a small oak tree had burst through the concrete causing more and more cracks in the façade.

A man, with possibly one of Gotham's hardest jobs, and a young couple, picked through the rubbish and detritus on the street. He was an overeager rental agent showing a couple around the building.

"Don't let the outside of this place put you off," he said, waving his clipboard about. "The building is a gorgeous pre-war with high ceilings (11 feet), floor to ceiling windows with silk curtains, hardwood floors, large living room and great closet space. Did I tell you the price? Just $600 a month and a prime location." The whole building seemed to shake as a subway train rumbled underneath. Small clouds of dust erupted from cracks in the building. "Close to subway lines, very convenient. Ignore those white painted lines on the sidewalk that look like dead people. It's just kids having a laugh."

"I suppose these bullet holes are kids having a laugh as well?" she said, feeling inside a bullet hole in the side of the building.

He chuckled. "You know what kids are like. We can negotiate on the price?"

"I don't think you need to; we're really not…"

"Woah, woah! Don't say something you'll regret here! Take a look inside this place first; it'll blow you away."

"The ad says it has ambient nightlife?" said the girl picking up what looked suspiciously like the Scarecrow's mask off the ground.

"And it does, it does," effused the agent. There was the sound of gunfire in the distance and a loud scream that quickly gave way to loud painful sobs. He winced a bit at this. There was another bang and the sobs stopped. He smiled again. "You've got a nightclub right on the floor under you. Do you like hip hop?"

"No."

"Well that's fine, they play garage and funk on Monday and Tuesday nights." Still smiling, they walked up some stairs that some local artist had tried improving. It was just unfortunate he had such a limited vocabulary of four letter words.

"This place smells like someone has…"

"Yes, yes, that'll be the sewage works next door, but on the plus side you'll see an awful lot of birds round here! Are you bird watchers?"

"Why birds?"

"They are attracted by the flies. Do you like flies?" he asked hopefully.

"No," said the girl. "We're really not interested in…"

"Just see the apartment first."

"Why did the last tenant leave?"

"A good question, a great question indeed. What do you think of the elevators? Don't you like the way the artist has cleverly infused his work with the numbers of local prostitutes?"

"Why did he leave then?"

"And what about this hall carpet. Your own home-grown mushrooms." The girl bent down to eat one but the estate agent paled and stopped her. "I wouldn't do that; my colleague tried one of those last week. But she has sent us a lovely postcard from Arkham Asylum, although she did misspell decapitate three times and we don't know what she used for ink but it was red. That reminds me I really need to change the locks on my apartment."

"Why did the last tenant leave then?

He sighed and stopped. "Well he didn't exactly leave; we just thought he wouldn't be coming back."

"Why's that?"

"Well, the police found him in Gotham plaza."

"What, wandering around?"

"Well, not really, since he had been nailed to a park bench, but he did seem quite happy since his face had a really big smile on it. It's just a shame his head was so far from his body…" He sighed a bit at this. "Anyway he used to sell jokes so he might have a few of his things left in the apartment. To be honest we haven't checked it out yet."

He pulled out a key ring with about forty keys on it and tried several before he found the right one. He had slight trouble pushing the door open with all the free papers and mail there and what looked suspiciously like a dead cat. "This is the hallway."

"Cough, cough." A voice came echoing down the hallway. "Oh no, we have guests and I have absolutely nothing in. Harley, my dear, do check the wine cellar. There's a good girl."

"We don't have a cellar, Puddin'"

A shadow of a man in a wide brimmed hat appeared on the hall wall. One hand was holding a gun. "I knew we should have changed the locks when we moved in, Harley. Didn't I tell you to change the locks?"

"Sorry, Puddin'."

"Wrong apartment, apologies," said the agent, looking paler than the Joker if that was possible. "We'll just be going."

There was a series of three shots in quick succession followed by a three thump sounds of bodies hitting the damp carpet. "Harley."

A young woman dressed in a jester's outfit walked in behind the Joker. "Yes?"

"Don't bother about the wine."

"Does this mean we have to move again, honey?"

Another tall man was behind the Joker. "I'm so sorry about the interruption Mr Slade, or can I call you Alec?"

"Just Slade will do."

"Please tell me why I didn't just kill you when you smashed your way through the window. Regular little vigilante aren't you? Are you and Bats bosom buddies?"

"I've heard you're good at distractions; I want to hire your services."

The Joker pulled out a buzzer. "EEEEEEEE! Wrong answer! Nobody hires me, buddy, I work for myself." He pointed the gun right between Slade's eyes. "I've been wanting to redecorate this apartment since we moved into this dump. I wonder what colour your brains are?"

Slade fixed the Joker with cold blue eyes and calmly got out a cigarette. He swept the match up the peeling wall and it fizzled into life. He lit the cigarette and inhaled the blue smoke.

"Horrible habit," said the Joker. "It'll be the death of you."

"I doubt it, now do we have an agreement?"

"I don't need your money." The Joker looked at a briefcase on the table in the middle of the room. Rows and rows of pictures of Benjamin Franklin looked up at him from the battered brown brief case. "Although that _is_ a lot of moolah… Why don't I just kill you?"

"Half now, half when the job is done."

The Joker lowered his gun and grimaced. "Very traditional."

Harley walked up behind the Joker and gently stroked his back. "You know the authorities have frozen your assets, honey?"

"Not nearly as much fun as it sounds."

"We've only got the clothes we are standing in."

"And they're practically walking off by themselves."

Slade smiled. "I've even brought you a few toys…" He indicated a rucksack in the corner.

The Joker gave a cherubic smile. "Oh Daddy, you shouldn't have! I've been wanting a train set for years, ever since I accidentally blew up Gotham's."

"Puddin', that wasn't an accident."

"Yes it was, I was aiming for the ferry." He put his hands in the rucksack and pulled out several items. "You've made this old clown very happy; you want a distraction you'll get one in spades!"

* * *

Langley was bathed in a full moon. Outside the building were several fountains and lakes and even a small golf course for its agents to unwind. Its gym and pool were second to none and it even had a large room nicknamed 'the theatre' where they created buildings and rooms of known enemies so they could practice storming rooms and buildings.

In the early evening Langley was normally winding down. It was never totally quiet since the world never sleeps and its agents were busy 24/7. This evening it was busier than it was normally. Porter Truss, the head of the CIA, was in a foul mood and made sure his staff knew it.

He was talking to the Director of Operations by satellite phone. The Director was currently in Europe talking to the heads of Interpol and MI6. "I want to know how the hell he got back to America. Why didn't he show up on the radar?"

"This man has had over twenty identities that we know of, sir," the voice crackled back over the intercom. "We doubt that he even knows himself who he is; we don't even know how old he is."

"What the hell is he doing back in Gotham?"

"You've got the report on what happened fifteen years ago?"

"Answer the question, dammit!" He had a copy of the old report in front of him. The project to scan all the old files from microfiche to a huge NAS (Network Attached Storage) drive was still in its infancy and he had to get someone to trawl this old file from the archives.

"We don't know, sir. At the time we thought he was dead." The voice at the other end paused a moment. "Hoped he was dead. I mean how could he survive that?"

"Why is he back?"

"I would say two reasons, sir. Firstly revenge. He's already killed two of the boys responsible for the incident in the first place; there is just Bruce Wayne left. That playboy might have danced his last jig. Secondly they are starting the research again. You know what they said about those creatures having a telepathic link? They wanted some hokum of putting one of them into a submarine, putting Slade into a cell and monitoring his brainwaves and then burning the one in the submarine. I dunno, two burns for left one for right sort of thing. They heal up pretty much instantly anyway. That way the submarine could communicate underwater without traceable radio waves. Ridiculous idea now but at the time they wanted to get one up on the Ruskies."

"Jeez. Who would want to be in a tin can with one of those creatures? Even tied down."

"There you have the initial problem. Anyway, they are researching again in Gotham. It seems they want the original back again. They've still got a couple that survived apparently."

"Where are they researching?"

"A private company just outside Gotham has the rights for military research. The guards have been equipped with silver bullets."

"Won't that kill him?"

There was a chuckling sound from the other end of a phone from a man happy that an ocean divided them. "It'll slow him down, might even knock him out, but it won't kill him. Believe me, it was tried when they originally caught him, but it does weaken them though. Gives them a severe allergic reaction."

"Why aren't there more of them? Don't you turn into a werewolf if you get bitten by one?"

"A werewolf doesn't stop at one bite. They are some kind of immortal shape shifters, there are not many left in the world."

"Turn into a wolf at full moon sort of thing?"

"Yeah, something about the light waves from the full moon will force a change, but they can change any time they want it seems, or certainly Alec Slade can."

"And now he's loose in Gotham?"

"Yeah."

"God help those people."

* * *

The Batmobile was out of the confines of the city now and speeding back to Wayne Manor. Various sensors around the manor confirmed that no-one was in the area and that nothing was watching and a green light came on on the dashboard. Unexpectedly a beep sound came from the car and a small screen flickered into life and some data appeared on the screen. This part of Gotham was currently being scanned by a GDF-486 American spy satellite. His car utilised stealth technology; it should not be possible to be seen. Even so…

He pressed a button and a Wayne Corp satellite, used ostensibly for a communications network being set up in Mexico, sent a concentrated pulse of gamma radiation to the area above Gotham city, interfering with the electronics of every satellite above Gotham for a minute. This had the dual effect of hiding him from satellite surveillance and preventing over 200,000 Gothamites from seeing the last minute of a WWF Pro wrestling contest.

He pressed a button and a narrow entrance opened in the hillside for just a few brief seconds.

Seconds later they were parked up in the cave and the hood of the car hissed open and they climbed out of the car.

Where was Alfred?

There was the computer station with the black high backed chair. A portable heater next to the chair was pumping out hot air and, looking out of place, were a mug of steaming tea and a half eaten shortbread biscuit on a small blue china plate.

"Alfred?"

"Where is he?" asked Robin.

A cold feeling came over Batman. "I don't know." He felt the mug. It was still warm. There was no sign of a struggle or any specks of blood. From his experience werewolves were messy eaters. "I don't think it's been here though."

"You still haven't told me what's after you?"

"Long story."

"Got all night."

Batman looked at the computer. "Computer. Where is Alfred?"

"Mr Pennyworth is currently in the second reception room."

Several shots echoed through the house and reverberated through the cave.

"How many others are up there?"

The computer's soulless voice continued. "There are currently fifteen armoured men in the house. When Mr Pennyworth went to the gate the security system was deactivated. They conform to the specifications of Team Luthor."

"Who are Team Luthor and what are they doing here?" asked Robin.

"They are part of Lex Luthor's personal army. They are equipped with titanium-shielded armour that can defend against anything up to an armour piercing shell. They also have an inbuilt oxygen supply so gas is useless against them. Their standard weaponry is laser guided explosive bullets but they have been known to carry a variety of military hardware. They can fly and are fast and lethal."

"Million dollar question. What are they doing in your house?"

Batman gave a grim smile. "Let's go and ask them. We'll enter the house via the garden. We don't want to give away too many secrets."

* * *

The paper was peeling from the walls of the apartment. The bodies of the three murdered victims were collapsed in the hallway. Flies, never far from this part of Gotham, were starting to gather. A bare bulb illuminated the Joker and Harlequin. The harsh light put the Joker's eyes into black shadows giving his face a skull like look.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Mr J?" asked Harlequin.

"I'm thinking about jelly, what are you thinking?"

"If Slade has all this money why don't we just kill him and take it all?"

"Harley, you know why I love you?"

"No."

"Neither do I. But your plan is suitably meritorious. However he has given us a bag of goodies. It would be rude not to use them. Let's go and paint the town purple," his voice dropped an octave, "and the streets red."

Harley shivered and giggled. "I love it when you talk violence!" She tapped him on his long nose and smiled.

* * *

Alfred could see his face reflected in the metal visor of the man standing in front of him. When he went to talk to the lady outside, obviously a stooge of these people, fifteen armoured men dropped out of the sky and surrounded him. He was carried with impressive speed back to the manor. The armoured man's eyes glinted red for a moment as he conducted a thermal sweep of the house. "Where is Bruce Wayne?"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," said Alfred. "I can't offer you a tea and scone, can I?"

The armoured man pushed Alfred into a chair. The man's voice had a metallic sound to it as the speakers in the suit converted his voice into that of an automaton. "Alpha squad. Conduct a sweep of the house. Find Wayne, now."

Four heavily armoured men turned around and started conducting a search of the house.

The man in front of Alfred pressed a button on his wrist. "Sir, this is Philips, we have secured the house. As expected, Pennyworth is here. No sign of Wayne though."

A voice came through the intercom. Alfred struggled to hear it. "He has to be there. Satellite imagery showed him turn up four hours ago from Gotham after a meeting with Wayne Corp executives. We have no record of him leaving the Manor. Caution should be observed. The Batman was spotted in the area recently. We had a glitch on the satellite soon afterwards and we are now trying to track him down again."

Philips put his wrist communicator down. "Caution, people, we might have a visitor soon. Maintain a thermal scan on the outside. Beta squad, prepare the incendiary devices, get ready to torch this place. Gamma squad, remember your training, if Batman appears kill him."

Alfred got to his feet. "You can't do that!"

"Watch us." Philips was confident and shoved Alfred back into the chair. They had conducted over thirty possible computer simulations of a fight against any of the Batclan. Originally, in the computer simulations, Batman had got the better of them. The computer version was programmed with all of Batman's known methods. The past fifteen simulations they had conducted in this very scenario had ended with Batman dead in fifteen seconds. They had the weaponry, they had the training and more importantly they were practically invulnerable in their armour. This would be a walk in the park.

A bell chimed throughout the house. "What's that?" asked Philips.

"Door bell," said Alfred, getting to his feet. "I'll get it."

"It's a trap," hissed one of Philips' men.

"I'll get the door." Even converted through the speakers there was a nervous sound that wasn't there before.

"Fine," said Alfred, and sat back down with studied ease.

Philips shook his head. "You get it."

"Make up your mind," said Alfred and winced a bit as he got to his feet. "At my age my knees aren't what they were."

The bell chimed again. "Gamma squad take point." With a surprising silence considering the heavy armour they were covered in, five armoured men surrounded the door. After a few more seconds thought he said, "You stay there, old man, I'll get this."

The door was a huge old oak door with black metal pins in it. It was originally a castle door taken from a welsh castle. The black spikes in it were designed to blunt any axes that took a shining to it. It was so old and had been coated with tar so many times it had the texture of rock and was about as tough as granite. It was only a clever system of hinges and pulleys that enabled Alfred to open the door so easily.

Philips grasped the metal door handle with his armoured glove, leaving imprints in the iron, and opened the door, pointing his gun out into the garden. There was nothing there but blackness. His vision suddenly clicked and showed the garden as a thermal image. The trees and plants were a deep blue colour but the statues and garden path were still a slight orange colour as the heat they had gathered through the day dissipated out. There was another click and the vision changed to electrical signals generated by animals and humans. A small movement caught his eye and his on board computer immediately zoomed in on it and showed what it was in a screen in front of his eyes. The words _Western Pipistrelle _scrolled across his vision. Just a bat.

Nothing there. He gestured to one of his men to walk outside. The man took one step out of the house and was suddenly whisked up into the air at incredible speed. Philips grimaced and took a step back. He grabbed a Schermuly flare from his utility belt and fired it into the air with a shooshing sound.

The blackness of the night was given an eerie red glow as the flare, hissing and sizzling, slowly descended on its small parachute. The bright light cast part of the garden into murky shadows. Several statues of fanciful creatures could be seen dotted about the garden.

Philips could hear the small whirring sound of his servomotors in his suit as he took a step outside. His breathing suddenly sounded eerily noisy in his ears. His suit's onboard computer started scanning the area and a small glowing map of the area appeared in front of his eyes. Red dots showed his men.

BANG!

The man who had been whisked away landed with a terrific thud, his armour ringing like a bell as he landed on the paving slabs, in front of him. He wasn't moving.

"Alpha squad," he hissed into his communicator. "He's outside, probably on the roof. Use your rocket boots to maintain a distance from the ground. Find him and kill him. He's on the roof." By the time he said that, he was wrong.

* * *

At the top of the house Batman let himself into a third floor window. He knew that the catch to that window had rusted away. Robin silently followed behind him. This was one of the guest rooms on the top floor. Now dustsheets covered the furniture. This was one of a dozen guest rooms that had not been used in years. Originally his grandfather had held huge hunts on the estate, and every weekend the house had been abuzz with activity and laughter. Now it was full of Luthor's killers.

Batman crept out of the room to the central balcony that ran round the main staircase that led to the front door. He stopped and listened. He could hear slight creaks and whispers below. The floor beneath his feet erupted as a shell tore through the floorboards sending clouds of dust and splinters into the air. They'd seen him on infrared. Robin cartwheeled back and Batman leapt over the balcony, twisting in mid air as they tried to get a lock on him. He landed in the middle of a circle of armoured men. They stopped firing when they realised they would be shooting at each other.

Batman threw a few ampoules of something on the ground and a liquid spread silken-like over the carpet.

Philips smiled beneath his metal mask. "You're that big shot Batman, aren't you? You might be a big man on the streets of Gotham, but here and now you're just meat. Take a look at what's going to rip your head off, boy." He aimed a huge gun at Batman's head.

In a blur Batman grabbed the gun and kicked one of the armoured men in the head. Careless of their own safety, some of the men started shooting at him. The bullets bounced off the other men with huge sparks and ripped huge holes in the walls of Wayne Manor.

They were heavily armoured.

He didn't need to hold back.

The man he had kicked in the head fell to the ground in a daze, his head had bounced around inside his steel helmet and concussed him. One of the steel suited men punched at him. Servo motors gave his arm the force of a pile-driver. These people could punch through reinforced concrete. Batman threw a line round two of the armoured men. They had prepared for this and sent a huge electric shock through their armour. Unfortunately for them Batman had connected them together. Blue lightning coursed over their armour and they fell down unconscious, smoke starting to appear through their visors.

Philips laughed at this and tried to punch him. It was then he realised that he was stuck to the floor by the liquid the Batman had thrown on the ground. Batman kicked him viciously in the head, which bounced his head in his helmet and stunned him. He then sent a line to the chandelier, which he had specially reinforced for just an eventuality and a motor in his belt rocketed him to the ceiling. The two Team Luthor men still on their feet shot at Batman. The chandelier disintegrated in a shower of glass and fragments sending Batman sprawling onto the gallery at the top of the stairs.

Bullets started chewing up the staircase towards him.

BOOM!

An explosion below sent the armoured men still standing below sprawling. He had left an explosive batarang behind. However, a specially designed one of his own creation. The firing had stopped. He crawled to the edge and looked down and they were all covered in a sticky web like substance that rapidly hardened to the texture of concrete.

There was a flash of lightning and Batman looked out the top floor window to see the guns of Alpha squad (hovering with their rocket boots) shooting their weapons at him through the glass…


	4. Chapter 4

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. With thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Four - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

The windows of Wayne Manor splintered and cracked as the explosive shells smashed against them. The windows themselves were bulletproof and rocket-proof, however the brickwork surrounding them was rather old and started to crack and cave in under the pressure.

In the seconds it took for the windows to finally disintegrate under the onslaught Batman had gone…

"Where is he?" intoned one of Team Luthor's men.

"I'm conducting a thermal search of the area, he's…" What the man was about to say was interrupted as Robin leapt on him from the roof.

"Nice suit," said Robin, as he slapped a small explosive charge on his chest. "Hope you guys are carrying spares."

He leapt from the man just as the explosive device he left on his armour exploded. The armour protected the man from harm but the reverberations concussed him and sent him spinning into the pond where his armour made him sink like a stone. Only his in built oxygen supply kept him alive.

Robin grabbed a lead rain gutter on the side of the house as he fell, the cold water in the gutter sloshed over him. "Eeewww!" The rest of Team Luthor started blasting at him, sending bricks and tiles and clouds of dust over Robin.

He reached the ground and aimed a grappling gun at the nearest man. Just before the cable wrapped around the feet of the man he threw the gun into the nearest rainwater barrel. The man's suit sent a huge electric pulse down the cable and shorted itself out. He fell in a mass of sparks and smoke into a flower bed.

That just left two. They cut the power to their rocket boots and landed with a thud in front of Robin, both pointing their guns at him. "Give it up, kid, don't make us kill you."

Robin scissor-kicked one of the men and bounced off. He swore and cursed as his leg was ringing from the pain. It was like kicking a wall. A steel arm came pounding down towards him. Robin twisted around it and tried to get the man off balance by using his force against him. He was too heavy for that though. It was like fighting a statue. Robin was pushed unstoppably to the ground.

He looked up and could see a huge steel fist pounding towards him at bone crunching speed. Suddenly a cable wrapped around the man's arm and he was pulled backwards at frightening speed. He looked up to see the grim countenance of Batman.

Batman threw an explosive batarang that disarmed the two armoured men and he stalked up to them.

"One chance," said Batman. "Why are you here?"

One of the men chuckled under his steel mask. "You've got nothing that could hurt us." He pulled his arm back to punch him but Batman hit him first. The man went flying back ten yards and snapped a tree in the garden as he landed, stunned.

Robin raised his eyebrows at this. Batman patted the heavily armoured, servo motor assisted armour he was wearing now on his arm.

"One chance," said Batman to the remaining man. "Why…"

"We'rejustunderorderspleasedon'thitme!"

"Slower."

"Don't hit me!"

"Whose orders? Luthor's?"

The man raised his head to one side as if listening to another voice. "No, it was…" He screamed in pain, smoke erupting from every segment of armour and then he collapsed dead to the ground. His armour then melted to ash as the thermo grenade in his suit destroyed any evidence of Luthor's involvement.

Batman looked around in shock and could see the same happening to all the Team Luthor men he and Robin had knocked out.

He cursed under his breath. "Luthor is too canny to be connected to this. Undoubtedly we will find out that a consignment of Team Luthor armour has been stolen by criminals…"

"Why would he want to kill Bruce Wayne?"

He gave a grim smile. "We'll have to ask him that."

Over Gotham a spotlight suddenly switched on, showing the Bat signal against the sky. They could see the flickering of several fires in the distance. The Bat Signal changed as they watched it to the black silhouette of the Joker's face, and the silhouette started laughing over Gotham.

"Gordon's changed the signal, has he?" asked Robin. "I don't think it's an improvement."

"We need to go, now."

Robin looked at his watch. "You do know I have a date in half an hour and I'm meant to compare Tacitus's and Suetonius's portrayal of Augustus Caesar by tomorrow."

"You might have to cancel, it looks like being a busy night…"

"You can tell my teacher that; she's the only one I know that is scarier than you."

Alfred delicately picked his way through the smoking remnants of the Wayne Manor foyer. "Sorry to bother you, sirs," he said, "but will you be…" He looked up at the sky and he could see the silhouette of Batman and Robin disappear into the distance. The throaty roar of the Batmobile showed it was driving on autopilot to the front gate. "Oh dear. Duty calls. I suppose I'll have to tidy up after you. Just like he was as a child." Alfred tutted as he looked around him at the piles of rubble and spent shells. "I had hoped he would get better with age."

* * *

Lex Towers in Metropolis was a huge gleaming glass monstrosity. It towered over anything else in the city. Because of the various God-like fights of the superbeings in Metropolis it had been rebuilt several times. In fact it been built to specifications to survive an earthquake of a Richter scale 8 and a metahuman level 4. The penthouse, where Lex Luthor was currently residing, had a thin film of lead surrounding it to stop Superman peering in. He also had a speaker on the outside sending out various sounds in the low frequency ranges to hopefully annoy Superman when he flew past and stop him listening in.

Superman was currently in space fighting an alien invasion force so Metropolis was strangely quiet. A couple of supervillains had turned up in Metropolis and had done the metaphorical equivalent of ringing the doorbell to see if anyone was in, peered in a couple of windows and left a note saying they would try again next week. They then lumbered off to Florida where their outlandish clothes and muscle bound physiques would not attract any undue attention.

Lex was currently in his office drinking a very expensive coffee which he had brought in especially from Brazil each week. His desk was awash with various reports and papers. He had four flat screen terminals in front of him, all of them were flashing up various reports and information from his considerable empire. He also had two phones on his desk, both of which were ringing, both of which he ignored.

Gotham was prime real estate. Most of the "square mile" in the centre was owned by Bruce Wayne. With him out of the way the company would be forced to sell the land to stay afloat. He had already been making the market jittery by buying vast amounts of Wayne Corp stock and then selling it all on the market at once to create a glut and artificially lower their price. With Wayne out of the way it would be ripe for a take over. With his plan for Gotham as well they would be giving away the sites in Central Gotham…

One phone would not stop ringing so he picked it up.

"Luthor."

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but the Team Luthor unit assigned to pick up Wayne was met by Batman. He disabled them. We had to terminate them before they started talking. We have adapted Team Beta to his techniques though and modified their armour. They'll get him next time."

Luthor shrugged. Thirty million dollars of training and equipment down the tube. Small change compared with what he was after. "What news of Slade?"

"He is definitely in Gotham. We are expecting him to assault the research centre soon, but we expect the Batman to interfere again..."

"Mobilise all forces in the area including any remaining members of Team Luthor to terminate him, immediately." Batman was probably too wily to be caught by any of his men but it should hopefully keep him busy anyway.

"Sir." The phone clicked off.

He drummed his hands on the desk whilst he thought. Slade was old. Old and cunning. He would be unlikely to fall into the trap he had for him down there. Even with such a bait as he had prepared for him. He did need him for the final phase of his plan though, unfortunately. He might have to deal with this personally…

He pressed a button on his desk and his secretary walked through the door. She was a slim elegant woman in her early thirties. "We're going to Gotham. Prepare my personal helicopter."

"Yes sir. How long are we staying? Macy's is having a sale there at the moment. Can I have an extended lunch break there tomorrow?"

Luthor gave a grim smile. "You'll probably want to stay indoors tomorrow when you see what's running about…"

* * *

Outside one of the Lexcorp research centres was a permanent camp of animal rights liberationists. It was one of the longest running camps they had that had been set up for the past three years. They heckled anyone going into the place and distributed leaflets to anyone willing to have one. Originally, when they first started, three of them had broken into Lexcorp. It was then they realised that although Lexcorp might not care much about animals they cared even less about people. The local hospital picked up what was left of the three several weeks afterwards…

They now just camped outside and badgered anyone who came within heckling distance.

Moss man (or to his parents, Kevin) accosted a little old lady walking a dog past their camp. "Animal rights, man, you shouldn't leash the beast."

The dog started growling at him as they walked past. She was doing her best to ignore him. "Just ignore the smelly man, Freda," she said down to her dog.

There was a laughing sound and Moss man was dragged backwards into one of the tents. "See the nasty man has gone," she said to her dog and carried on walking down the street. She ignored the horrific sounds of growling and teeth gnashing going on in the tent and carried on walking up to the entrance of Lexcorp. One of the guards, a huge man carrying a heavy machine gun as easily as if it was a flywhisk, walked up to the gate.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"I do hope so, dearie, I do hope so. You couldn't hold this a moment, could you?" She handed him her handbag. "Now where did I put it?" She started looking in her pockets. "I know Mr J gave it to me before I left. You ever met my puddin'?"

"Eerrrm, no."

"He wouldn't let me leave without it." Her face lit up as she pulled out a gun. She pointed it at the man and pressed the trigger. A little flag shot out the muzzle with the word 'BANG!' emblazoned on it. She giggled as the guard went white and started to back away. "I picked up the wrong one! You know what it's like." The guard ran back to the guardroom still clutching her handbag. She fished around in her pocket and found a small remote control unit. She pressed the button on it and the guardroom exploded as the explosive device she had in her bag blew up. "Yeah, that's the one."

Behind her a man with the face of a clown, the smile of a cherub and the heart of a gibbering psycho scampered towards her. She turned towards him, peeling off her disguise. The dog ran off down the street. "Do you think that's a good distraction, dearie?"

In the Luthor research building, klaxons started wailing and several spotlights could be seen homing in on the gate. Back in Gotham City the Joker had, with his new found wealth, hired a gang to cause a few problems to the Gotham police department and also, he hoped, to distract the Batman. Not that old pointy ears could be distracted for long.

Slade walked up behind the Joker, his face looking strangely feral as his angular features were caught in the spotlight. For a second the Joker could swear his eyes gleamed gold like those of a dog caught in a headlight. The Joker crooked one arm and Harley hooked her arm into it. A spotlight caught the Joker and Harley in its fierce neon glare.

"The world is a stage, my dear Harley."

"Let's go slay the audience!"

* * *

The Batmobile roared down the dark streets of Gotham towards the Gotham Police Headquarters. Batman was monitoring the police band. Alongside the normal chatter was the comment, "Captain Kendall to report to headquarters, urgent." If Gordon wanted to speak to speak to him immediately he used that statement on the police band.

There was also a lot of chatter about various explosions in a variety of shops and warehouses. No casualties as yet but it was stretching the police and fire department thin. There was also a small riot going on in downtown Gotham.

A screen in the Batmobile flickered to life again.

"What is that?"

"A spy satellite is trying to pinpoint us."

"Luthor?"

A radar screen also lit up and showed three green blips fast approaching. "Lynx attack helicopters and some members of Team Luthor," he said. He pressed a button on the dashboard and a dial tone was heard. "Gordon."

There was the sound of ringing and then a voice picked up the phone sounding rather harassed. "…coffee two sugars. And find out what the hell Lawoski is doing out there. I don't pay him to sit on his… Gordon here. What do you want?"

"It's Batman."

"Thank God." There was a slurping sound. "Two sugars I said! Two sugars! You trying to poison me? Sorry about that. All hell is breaking loose here. My men are stretched to nothing here. We've got reports of the Joker been seen near the Luthor Research Centre at the corner of 23rd and 5th, I've only got two units to spare, could you deal?"

There was a whistling sound outside, Batman twitched the wheel and a sidewinder missile blew a huge hole in the road where the Batmobile was. This was shortly followed by a shower of gravel and tarmac hitting the car windscreen.

"What's that noise?"

"Static. I'll be there shortly." He pressed a button and the phone slid back into the seat.

Several Team Luthor men shot past the Batmobile, firing as they went. A number of parked cars exploded into flame as the shells they fired at it bounced off and exploded randomly.

Batman floored the accelerator and the car shot forward, bullets and shrapnel bouncing off it.

"I couldn't give Angela a call, could I?" asked Robin. "I'm meant to be meeting her in fifteen minutes."

Batman shrugged. "Be my guest."

Robin got out his mobile and scrolled down to her name. Outside the car two determined members of Team Luthor had landed with a metallic thump on top of the car and applied magnetic boots to stick to the surface like glue.

"Come on, come on," said Robin. She picked up the phone. "At last. Hi Angel, it's Ro…. Tim here. It's about tonight."

Batman sent an electric shock pulsing through the outer frame but these Team Luthor men were in upgraded insulated suits. Electric blue lightning coursed over their armour and grounded itself into a nearby lamppost.

Clang.

One of them started to pound the glass between the Dark Knight and himself. Robin could see the mirrored helmet of the thug through the window. The other Team Luthor man's hand started glowing as an oxyacetylene torch lit up. He started trying to cut his way through the door. Batman's lip curled back as he scraped the car down the side of Gotham's National Library. There was a shower of sparks and a huge clang sound as he scraped off the Team Luthor man who was trying to cut his way through. The other one was balanced on top of the car though, no way to scrape him off…

Tim had the phone to his ear. "Yeah Angela. I'm going to have to cancel, I'm afraid."

CLANG.

"That noise? Oh nothing. Just watching TV. I've got a cold. I'm ill. Sore throat."

CLANG! Crack. A small filigree of cracks appeared in the windscreen.

"Speaking with a sore throat. Yes, I know I can, that's the kind of guy I am, great. Cough! Cough! Quite strange, isn't it?"

Batman threw the car into a spin to try and shake off the limpet-like man but he clung on with a grim determination. The smell of burning rubber filled the air and smoke hung heavy in the street afterwards. It did not work though. He was still attached to the top of the car.

CLANG! CRACK! A huge crack appeared in the triple reinforced bulletproof windscreen.

His magnetic boots were too powerful and they clung to the car. He raised his steel fist again. One more punch would probably crack the glass and expose them to the tender mercies of Team Luthor. There was a bus depot up ahead. Batman accelerated towards it and crashed the car into the side of an empty bus at over 200mph...

* * *

**Fifteen years ago…**

Bruce scrabbled backwards over the broken breezeblocks. There was gnashing of teeth as the man tried to bite him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said. A change seemed to come over him and the strange fire that was in his eyes left him.

Bruce backed to the wall, to keep the man at chain distance. "Who the hell are you?"

"I have been here for the past six months! You must release me!" The man rattled his chain and squinted at the torchlight. He was dressed in ragged clothes. "I have not been myself recently." He rubbed his eyes and breathed deeply.

The other children filed behind Bruce, all keeping him at a distance.

"Please just let me go, I implore you."

"Hey back off, man," said Carson. "We don't know what you're here for. You might be a killer or something."

The man's eyes glowed slightly at this but he said nothing. He pulled a sleeve up to show a row of tubes and small glass capsules. The tubes went into his arm. "They have been experimenting upon me! I don't deserve this!"

Carson looked at this contemptuously. "Maybe you do, how do we know what you are here for?" He walked up to him and pushed him down. The man was obviously quite weak and just collapsed on the ground. "What's your name then?"

"Alex Slade."

"What are you doing down here, Slade?"

He looked at the children for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I was a prisoner in Gotham State Penitentiary. The warders gave me to these scientists."

Bruce straightened up a bit at this. "So you do deserve punishment. What did you do, Slade?"

"Non payment of debts."

"That doesn't sound too bad," said Lou.

Slade shuffled his feet a bit. "Of a bank I robbed." He looked up at them, his eyes imploring. "I needed the money, man! I had a loan shark after me. My sister needed an operation or she'd die."

Bruce looked at him for several seconds. "How long have you been down here?"

"Six months, I told you."

"You are sorry for your crime?"

"Every goddamn day."

"Would you do it again?"

"No. For God's sake no! If I get out I will live a good clean honest life."

"Okay." Bruce looked at the others. "Guys, see if you can find a crowbar. Something to lever open these chains."

Lou shook his head. "I dunno, Bruce, can we trust him?"

The man was looking at them imploringly. "We can't just leave him down here. He could die."

"Why don't we tell someone about him?"

Bruce looked about and over his shoulder. "Who to tell? There's no-one here!" He opened a rusty steel door the other side of the cell and found he was in some sort of office complex built underground. Water dripped from the light fittings and everywhere was the smell of damp and mildew. The place looked like it hadn't been occupied for months, possibly years.

He turned back to Slade. "How long have you been down here alone for?"

"I've lost track of time down here…"

"Why did they leave you?"

He shrugged his skeletally thin shoulders. "Don't know."

Outside in the wall was a lever with the signs "Open" and "Close" on it. Bruce shrugged his shoulders. They couldn't leave him down there. He might die.

"Don't do it, Bruce," said Lou.

"We can't leave him here." With a grunt of effort he pulled the lever down and the silver chain that attached Slade to the ground and prevented his change fell off him.

"Free!" Slade said. His lips seemed to curl back, exposing his teeth. "FREE!" His face seemed to blacken and elongate in seconds. "FREEEE!" He growled. Huge yellow incisor teeth grew and his hands seemed to flatten and form claws.

Bruce looked at the others and they looked at him. "We'll close the door I think." Bruce slammed the door shut and they started running down the corridor.

There was a huge bang sound behind them and the door was torn open like it was made of paper and a huge wolf was bounding down the corridor towards them…


	5. Chapter 5

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter. Thanks for all teh reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Five - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Slade sniffed the air. He was close, he knew it. His brethren were close by and in pain. A lot of his brethren… Slade had a telepathic link to all werewolves on the planet. He had been alone for hundreds of years; it saved the pain when one of them died. He had been caught fifteen years ago and since then he had felt more and more werewolves. But who was creating them? He was always careful to kill whoever he bit. Best way. Werewolves are solitary beasts; two of them is a battle.

Slade was born about seven thousand years ago, even he had lost count. He had been a shaman seeking enlightenment and his spirit was searching the netherworld when he met the Wolf spirit. They had fought for months in the spirit world, possibly years, and when he finally beat it he took on its immortal spirit and its immortal hunger…

At first it seemed like a blessing. He could not be killed. He could not be stopped. He didn't need sleep. He didn't need food. But there was a curse. He needed to kill to appease the wolf spirit inside of him. It appeased the rage simmering below the surface of his spirit, but not for long… If he left any victims alive they became werewolves. They did not have his immortality, but they were strong, fast and had a lust for blood and were very difficult to kill. He also shared their pain. That's why he now made sure he left none of his victims alive. He didn't feel anything for his victims. You might as well feel for the ants you squash on the sidewalk. Their lifespan was inconsequential compared to his. However, something had drawn him to this place. Someone had been hurting the werewolves in this place and he had felt it all the way over in England… But where had these new werewolves come from?

That was why he had been captured originally, although it had taken a squad of Navy Seals to do that. The ones he had bitten were to be put into a submarine so he could communicate with them telepathically. Of course things had gone wrong with that idea…

"Joker," he growled.

The man in the purple hat and the wide smile stopped. "What is it, tall, dark and gruesome?"

"I smell a trap." He looked at the building they were walking towards. The windows were bathed in black shadows. In the old days he never used to worry about traps. Arrows never used to hurt that much, unless they were tipped in silver. To be fair, in the couple of hundred years he spent in Transylvania people had learned that trick. Now guns hurt him and slowed him down, but he was even getting used to that now.

He stopped walking and stared at the windows. Was that somebody moving? Were people lining up a sight on him now? He was walking in like a pimp in a brothel. "Stay there." He watched the Joker's jaw drop as he changed quietly into a werewolf. There were no horrible painful looking changes. No cries of agony as his skull flattened and pointed out and his teeth grew. He must have done this change thousands of times. He was used to it.

He padded silently up to the building.

BANG!

A bullet pinged next to him and deflected off into the distance with a whining sound. Suddenly a fusillade of shots erupted at him. Or where he had been… He leapt towards a window at blistering speed, his teeth taking a guard's neck in his mouth…

* * *

The Batmobile tore through the bus like a stone through a wet paper bag and the bus exploded in a welter of flames and scraps of metal. The Team Luthor man attached to the car laughed at this and carried on pounding the windscreen. The armour of the man was dented and small flames were burning all over the car and the man.

Batman clenched his jaw at this and aimed the car at the bus maintenance depot, a huge brick warehouse. Barrels, tables and toolkits went flying as the car ripped through the inside of the building. A small waiting room with a kettle, a few mugs and some glamour magazines was turned into so much matchwood as it tore through the back of the building.

There was an old canal at the back of the building, now the resting place of several bikes, an old car and the remains of the Manton gang, who used to hold sway over this part of Gotham before the Joker arrived. It now contained the Batmobile which landed with the grace of a brick.

The Team Luthor man who had been trying to batter his way into the car had gone. Presumably swept away when they crashed through the brick walls of the building.

"Sorry, Angela," said Robin, still on the mobile phone. "I seem to be losing the signal." He clicked on the off button on it and looked over at the grim countenance of the Dark Knight. Water was starting to seep in through the cracks in the windscreen as the car slowly sank to the bottom of the canal; hidden yellow lights came on in the car as the dark murk surrounded them. "Great place to park, Batman, real slick."

* * *

In a Team Luthor base just outside Gotham, two battered armoured men touched down on the roof and headed down the grey metal stairs towards the armoury. A small man in a white coat busy testing a self-loading machine gun looked towards them when they walked in. They were battered, scorched and under the armour they were bruised and bloodied.

"Back to the drawing board?"

"Yep."

A private jet tore through the skies of Metropolis towards Gotham City. It was a luxury model, only three made in the world, one for the Sultan of Brunei and two for Lex Luthor. He was under no illusions as to his popularity, so he always had both leave the airport at the same time in different directions.

Luthor was ignoring the no smoking sign and was happily lighting a cigar and blowing smoke towards the flashing light. Things were going well so far. He was on the videophone to the head of the Lex Corp Research base.

"Our men have made contact with Slade, sir."

"Good."

"He's changed form; he's already killed three guards."

"Spring the trap. Now."

"Sir."

The screen flickered to show a member of Team Luthor. His armour was looking battered and smoking slightly; the red mark on his shoulder showed he was the captain. "We have not been able to stop the Batman, sir."

Luthor gripped the side of the airline seat he was in, making marks in the moulded plastic. "I want that vigilante dead."

"We might need help, sir."

"He must not get in that research plant! Call in any Team Luthor men in the area!"

"Sir!" The screen flickered and went black.

Luthor drummed his fingers against the seat for a few seconds while he thought. It might be time to call in some favours. Some big favours.

He pressed a button on the keypad in front of him. "Get me the White House and the head of the CIA…"

* * *

The huge werewolf shook the dead guard like a terrier with a rat and threw the blood-soaked body against a wall. He roared and made to leap towards another guard who was firing constantly at him but having no effect, when lights blazed on and a silver net dropped from the ceiling.

Several guards with electric cattle prods started jabbing the howling beast to try and knock him out. Half a dozen heavily armed guards surrounded him, aiming their weapons. A man in a white coat got a hypodermic out and drew out a sample of blood from the enraged beast. The man then ran through a steel door behind them. The door clanged shut behind him.

"Cough, cough."

The guards swung around at this interruption.

"I can see you boys are busy so I won't bother you…"

"It's the Joker," said one of the guards, raising his gun. "Put those hands up, clown."

The Joker gave him a sideways glance and giggled. "You really don't want me to…"

"I ain't scared of you, you ugly clown. Let me see those dainty whites." The guard clicked the safety of his gun and raised the gun to his eye.

The Joker tutted. "With that sort of attitude I'll take you off my Christmas card list."

"Now Joker, I'm losing my sense of humour."

"You mean you had one to start with?" The Joker slowly raised his hands. Half a dozen guards edged in closer; the sound of triggers being edged back echoed around the room. There were a few bits of metal in his hands that clinked to the floor.

"What the hell are those?"

"Pins." The Joker leapt behind a concrete pillar, and several metal egg shapes spun into the room and exploded in a welter of smoke, flame and shrapnel. The guards that were standing were blown about the room like rag dolls. The shrapnel also tore off the silver net that was containing Slade. A hand grenade, even at close range, would have little effect on him.

The werewolf morphed back into the form of Slade, complete with black trench coat.

"Where now, pooch?"

Slade sniffed the air and closed his eyes while he concentrated; he then pointed at a steel door in front of them.

"It's locked, my pedigreed chum," said the Joker, waggling the door handle as much as his eyebrows. Harley wiggled up behind the Joker.

Slade walked up to the door and kicked it down. It was thrown back into a hallway in a cloud of concrete dust.

The Joker looked at Slade appraisingly. "Your coat's got a glossy sheen, I bet you eat Cesar?"

Slade glared at him. "I could kill you in a bite. Give me enough reason to and I will."

The Joker grinned at him as he walked past, then silently mouthed to Harley. "No sense of humour!" They both giggled at this.

Slade glared at them. "What?"

"Nothing! Nothing! Personal question?"

"What?"

"More for Harley than me, but why aren't you naked when you change back to your delicious human form? I mean, you are a werewolf?"

"I'm no mere werewolf, I am more than that. A lot more."

"Right, right," said the Joker.

"Can you lose the clothes for me, big guy?" asked Harley.

The Joker looked askance at this. "You never ask me!"

"Jealous? I don't need to ask you, yo-yo pants, besides you know the pale and pasty look always turns a girl on." She ran her fingers up the Joker's thin purple chest.

"Harley, you tease!"

Slade shook his head. "Come on, people, let's get it together, we're nearly there."

* * *

Luthor's jet was approaching Gotham Airport. Several planes from Europe were put into holding patterns when he requested an emergency landing.

"Could you please turn off your mobile whilst we are landing, please sir?" asked the pretty hostess to the plane's one and only passenger. "Also if you could strap in, please."

Luthor fixed her with a steely glare but carried on his phone call. "You've got the blood sample? Excellent. He's escaped the first trap? Well, that was to be expected. I didn't realise he would have that psychopathic clown with him, though. Tell the men to shoot to kill. What's with the blood sample?"

The voice crackled on the other end of the line. "It's as we hoped, sir. The DNA is stable. The werewolves we have from the original batch are not controllable, sir, but with this sample from Slade we should be able to stop that."

"You mean you can control them? Give them simple commands?"

"Better than that, sir, better than that, a lot better than that."

* * *

Gotham River, like an ancient monster; the boats moored up on the side were swept back and forth as a huge sinister black shape swept under them. A concrete ramp used for launching boats suddenly had a huge black armoured car roaring up it, trailing water, weeds and a determined sucker fish that flolloped off after a hundred yards.

A green screen flickered into life on the dashboard, showing the radar. It was empty; they had shaken off their pursuers.

Batman floored the accelerator and the car roared off towards the Luthor research plant. In the distance he could see smoke pumping out of the entrance to the building and he could hear the sound of automatic gunfire deep inside the building…

Metropolis City Bank had an unexpected visitor. A man dressed in black crawled in through the air conditioning and changed his shape to squeeze through the impossibly tight gaps. In seconds, the man poured like liquid metal into the main foyer of the bank. Various alarm systems detected him and then were immediately shut down by the elastic villain.

Several minutes later he poured out of the side ventilator shaft with several dozen small bags of money. Not a bad day's work.

"Cough! Cough!" A muscular shadowy figure touched down gently a few metres away from him. The light behind him cast his face into shadow. He walked purposefully towards the villain.

"I might have known you would stick your cape in, Superman, I've been itching to try this out on you." The man stretched out a hand to the shadowy figure at the end of the alley. He removed a cap on the ring and an eerie green glow lit the alleyway. "You won't believe how much this cost me, Superman, but it would be worth it to put you in the ground."

The man walked nonchalantly up to him and studied his hand with interest.

"Very nice, what does it do?"

The villain looked slightly confused at this. "It's Kryptonite! It will kill you!"

"Really, really?" He walked around the villain with interest. "Superman is away this week. I'm Nightwing; I'm covering Metropolis for him. I don't do Kryptonite."

The man's arm warped into a spear shape and his skin hardened into iron as he stabbed at the young hero. "You will die just as easily!"

Nightwing dodged the spear, slapping the man down with one hand and wincing at the pain. The spear crashed into the wall behind him, sending bricks and dust flying.

The man's arm changed into a club and he smashed it down on Nightwing's head. Or rather where it had been.

Nightwing vaulted the club, leapt for the nearest fire escape and kicked him in the head as he did. The villain went flying back and straight into a net wielded by Batgirl and was dragged up thirty feet in the air. Just before he changed his form again and oozed out of the net Nightwing sent a drug tipped dart that sent him to sleep.

His communicator started beeping quietly in his ear. "N, this is B."

"Yes?"

"I've got a small favour to ask you and BG?"

* * *

Metropolis jail has cells ranging up to three miles underground in a huge granite plug that used, millions of years ago, to be the central core of a volcano. Cells had been driven into this in an attempt to keep some of the super beings captured by Superman prisoner. As you can imagine it is all very well, Superman punching out someone who has the strength to topple a building with one breath, but what do you do when they wake…

Deep underground in a cell that was guarded by security that makes Fort Knox seem about as well guarded as the average candy store, a well-dressed young businesswoman was walking down a corridor in Death Row, the most heavily guarded prison section on the planet. The long corridor ended in a steel door that was over ten foot thick and protected by a rolling randomised combination lock that was in sequence with two keys owned by the President and the head of the CIA. The number changed every thirty seconds. This woman had the keys…

A quick tap of the right number later and the door opened. The man in there was part human, part robotic. He was at the other end of the cell performing his daily fitness routine of 500 abdominal crunches followed by 500 press-ups. He did not look up when the door opened, just carried on with his fitness routine, not that he needed to but boredom was his main enemy here...

"Who are you?"

"I'm Amanda Waller, currently on assignment to the CIA. We're reforming Task Force X."

The man rolled to his feet and looked at her. "The Suicide Squad?"

"As you know, after your last little jaunt the President himself signed your death warrant. They're warming up the chair for you now. If you eliminate a couple of people for us, we might overlook your little indiscretions…"

The man lowered his eyebrows giving his face a fiendish look. "Why don't I just escape?"

"Enjoy that last meal you had?"

"Braised steak, what's not to like?"

"It also contained four thousand nannites, each wired up with a particle of semtex, and lead lined kryptonite. They are currently in your head. They will explode in 24 hours unless you complete your mission."

With unnerving speed the man picked her up by the neck and pushed her up the wall with his metallic arm. "Why don't I kill you now and worry about that later?"

She tried to smile at him. Difficult when you are suspended three feet above the ground by your neck, but she tried her best. "It is also triggered to my heartbeat. If it stops, so do you."

He grimaced, his metallic teeth grinding and making sparks. "Who do you want me to kill?"

"You won't be on your own, Sizzlin' Sally has a few more meta humans to ride the lightning today. We want Batman and his family killed!"

* * *

The Batmobile glided to a rather damp halt outside the Luthor Research base and parked behind an old van. The gleaming metal surface seemed to shimmer as a hologram simulation disguised it as an old beat-up Chevy. The door hissed open and Batman and Robin stalked out towards the building, keeping to the shadows.

Various shots and echoes of screams could be heard drifting through the air. The shadows seemed to deepen and darken as they crept like assassins towards the building. Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of rocket boots and a helicopter.

With a clunking sound half a dozen heavily armoured Team Luthor men landed in the entrance to the building, and behind them a helicopter landed in a cloud of dust. Lex Luthor got out of the helicopter and strode towards the line of Team Luthor men.

The armoured men now had directional flame throwers attached to their arms and every now and then spouts of flame tinged the air.

"Batman!" shouted Luthor.

There was silence from the street.

"BATMAN, I KNOW YOU ARE OUT THERE!"

A batarang shot out of the shadows towards one of the Team Luthor men. The man seemed to glow a light blue for a second as an energy shield sent the projectile flying back where it originated. It clattered harmlessly against a wall.

Luthor chuckled. "This is private land, Batman." He stamped his foot down to reiterate the point. "My land. If you or any of your cronies step one boot onto it I'll have your head for my wall."

He was answered by silence. Behind him in the huge research building he could hear the sounds of gunshots and explosions as the Joker and Slade went deeper into the building. He gestured to half of his men. "Go and capture Slade. I need him alive. Kill the clown."

"Affirmative, sir," intoned one of the men. With a clanking sound, three of the men strode into the building.

The other three looked at Luthor. "Find and kill that vigilante Batman."

"I see him, sir," said one of the Team Luthor men, his eyes glowing red as he scanned the dark shadows. He sent a stream of liquid flame towards an alleyway…


	6. Chapter 6

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Six - Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Floyd Lawton, AKA Deadshot, squinted as he left his prison for the past few years. He had been mulling over his past life trying to work out how he ended up in Death Row when suddenly he found he wasn't. To be honest it didn't take him too long to work out since his résumé read like the top five of America's most wanted. He had been given a job! Head-hunted, as it were.

The man next to him glared at him. Well, saying the word "man" conjures up an image of a person with fully functioning arms and legs and even, if you have a good imagination, a nose. This was a person who it seems like the creator had got bored and melded a junk yard and a human together. His original name was Hank Henshaw and he had all of Superman's powers, and a few of his own, but none of those icky morals that stop him from destroying Metropolis when he gets out of bed on the wrong side. Now he just called himself the Cyborg. He could control and alter machinery and had Superman's powers. He could normally move his mind from one machine to another but that power had been tempered. He was still hugely powerful though…

Deadshot's costume had wrist mounted armour piercing magnums and his helmet had a telescopic sight. There was a full moon over Metropolis and the thriving city was a mass of lights and gleaming modern buildings. It was earning itself the nickname of the city that never sleeps, while Gotham had been nicknamed the city with the eternal hang over, sick and always in a bad mood.

"So we've got 24 hours to kill Batman," he said to the Cyborg.

The man nodded curtly.

"Plenty of time to get some food then!"

"I am not hungry…"

"Maybe you aren't, metal teeth, but I could just murder a cheeseburger. Have you got any green?"

"What?"

"Folding. Dough. Jack. Money."

"No."

"No matter." He flicked his wrist and a gleaming magnum appeared in it. "I find this is accepted everywhere, and I don't even have to sign for it."

There was a coughing sound behind them. They turned around to see the woman that had sprung them from the joint. "You've got under twenty-four hours to kill Batman or we will kill you."

"Plenty of time to…"

"Get going."

"Can't I just…"

"Now!"

"Okay, okay." He looked over at the Cyborg. "Say, Superboy, you couldn't fly me to Gotham could you?" He looked at him quizzically. "How do you look after those metal joints? WD40?"

The Cyborg turned to the woman. "Does he need his tongue for this job?"

"Hello, this is a team! What's your specialist power anyway? Ability to rust? Can transform into a shopping trolley? Say, if you can't cut it as a super villain you could always get a job down at Walmart."

The Cyborg grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up several feet in the air. His voice squeaked. "I can see we'll get along famously!" There was a swishing sound as he flew towards Gotham with the hapless Deadshot with him.

* * *

Lex Luthor's building dominated the skyline in Metropolis, which was just the way he liked it. It had round the clock guards and these guards were not your run of the mill "Jo punchclock" types. The ones who didn't look at the CCTV screens because they were too busy looking at the clock. These were serious men, with serious body armour and armed with serious guns.

To be fair, they had to be. Gotham might be filled with scarred pyschos with a penchant for robbing the fancy dress store, but Metropolis was filled with aliens and Meta humans with a penchant for knocking down buildings they didn't like the look of. In Metropolis if you wanted your building to be the same shape it was when you left, you employed some decent guards… These were decent guards; they were the best of the best. Most of them had served in American Special Forces and cut their baby teeth, as it were, in some of the most hostile war zones on Earth and off it, and this was why what was happening was very peculiar...

The nerve centre of Luthor Towers was a mass of computers and electronic paraphernalia, and they monitored everything going on around the building. The type of room that was chock full of screens and keyboards and techy looking types looking at screens with something like befuddlement. The type of face they only normally used when their 5th level Wizard in Dungeon Master 4 computer game, the one they had spent months building up experience on and could fight a dragon in single handed, had just been bested by a frog. In this case the screens were showing four less guards than there should be.

"Scan level Four."

"Scanning, David." There was a beeping sound and the computer screen showed a diagram of the fourth level. "Scanning complete, Dave. There is a broken window on Level Four, room 434, quadrant 9."

The man pushed his glasses up his nose and scratched at a spot. "Why was this not detected before?"

"The sensors were deactivated before entry was gained, David."

"Computer, how many people were in the building ten minutes ago?"

"Eight-five, David."

"How about now?"

"Eighty-seven, David."

"Explain the discrepancy," he said icily.

"There is no need to take that tone with me, David."

Why had they given the computer "lifelike personality traits? "Who are the new people and where are the guards who should have reported in?"

"Not until you apologise for that tone, David."

"I am sorry, Edna," said Dave, "now can you please continue."

"It's not like I don't have feelings, you know."

"I know."

"I can't just get up and leave like you can."

"I know, I know, please carry on."

"I try my best, I'm just not appreciated."

"Yes, yes."

"Just a word of encouragement occasionally, that's all I ask for."

"I know, I know, you're a beautiful machine and I love you."

"You're making me go all tearful."

"Good, good, now where are those guards?"

"I can't concentrate, you've made me go all gooey, Dave."

"Oh Buddha!" said Dave, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"They're on level five, two of them. They conform to the specifications of Nightwing and Batgirl. Just a minute…"

"What?"

"They are removing my sensors!"

"Get a squadron of guards up there now!"

"Okay Dave, I'm summoning them now…"

* * *

The flames licked towards the alleyway the Batman was in, enveloping the Dark Knight in flames. His suit had a Nomex fireproof layer and a hastily applied re-breather saved him from the worst of it, and he stalked out of the flames like an evil spirit from Hades, his cape smouldering.

"Kill him! Kill him!" shouted Luthor.

A Team Luthor man pressed a button on his arm and the flamethrower was replaced by a self-loading machine gun.

There was a roaring sound from the road and the Batmobile leapt down the road towards the Team Luthor men and knocked them around like skittles before performing a hand-brake turn and screeching to a halt besides its master like a faithful puppy.

Lex Luthor leapt to one side to avoid the car, he rolled to his feet with a silver magnum in one hand but the Batman had gone…

He looked over at Gotham and could see the glowing spotlight of the Bat signal. In the distance he could hear a wolf howl and even he shivered in fear. They were out…

* * *

The beast was around seven foot high, covered in brown hair. The first person in Gotham who saw it thought it was a bear, and it was certainly the right size for that. The head was huge and hunched on a massive neck with elongated jaws like a wolf from a nightmare. Blood already stained its teeth and the throat of the first person in Gotham who saw it…

It howled in triumph of its victory. The howl was being echoed around Gotham, the chasms of buildings made the sound reverberate around the city. More and more joined in…

* * *

Slade was deep in the building with the Joker and Harley when he heard the howls. He concentrated and could see what his brethren could see but there was something wrong…

Normally he could feel their anguish. For the past three or four weeks he had felt the pain of the werewolves here. Their joy at being fed, the peace at night when they were asleep and the pain as the men here had tortured them to try and entice him out. But now… Nothing.

He let his spirit soar and he could see werewolves about him. One was being shot by guards in an attempt to herd it out of the building but although the wolf was howling in agony he felt nothing.

He had always assumed that intimate connection he had with them was to stop him creating more werewolves and ruling the world like a God. Somehow that had changed. For thousands of years he had been cursed with the power of the Gods but the inability to use it without causing himself severe pain. Now that had changed, someone had altered these werewolves and with it his link to them.

With a small mental nudge he sent a couple of werewolves over to the guards in the building. There was a screaming sound and then nothing. He grinned to himself and fell back into his body. Harley was staring at him; the Joker was using the time to start knitting a purple scarf with a red Joker motif.

"Harley, can you put a finger there, can you, I need to purl a stitch," said the Joker. The Joker's eyebrows went up slightly. "No, not there! On the yarn. On second thought, keep it there. You all right, Fido? We seemed to lose you for a bit."

He grinned, his incisors gleaming white. "Better than ever."

* * *

Two armoured silver beings pounded down the corridor towards them. A voice boomed out and one of them pointed a huge black gun at them. "Don't move people, we've got you in the cross hairs."

Nightwing ghosted down the corridor when his radio buzzed slightly in his ear. A familiar voice growled at him. "N this is B, where are you?"

"We're in Luthor tower B. Just a few guards so far, nothing to worry about. What's happening there?"

"Luthor is here and so are about a dozen werewolves. I need to know what the hell Luthor is doing here."

In front of him four heavily armed guards appeared. There was a clicking sound as they took the safeties off.

"You're coming with us, boy." The man looked around him. "Where's your girlfriend?"

There was the sound of a two men hitting the ground. The guard whipped around to see a slight figure of a girl dressed all in black, seemingly at one with the darkness. In the momentary confusion Nightwing kicked the gun out of the guard's hand and stunned him with a blow to the neck. The other guard was already knocked out by the time he was about to punch him.

Nightwing shrugged. She was good, almost too good. Sometimes he wondered if she was a Meta human of some sort.

She cocked her head and looked at him. "Where now?"

"Up. To the top floor. As soon as…" Nightwing glared at the corridor that was full of twitching, groaning guards. "This is too easy; Luthor wouldn't just hire a few goons to mind the shop."

"What shop? This is not a shop?"

"Luthor's place."

They both heard the noise at the same time and they seemed to melt into the shadows.

A deep metallic voice came echoing through the corridors and a pair of red eyes lit up in the dark. "I see you!"

* * *

Batman was back in the seat of his car. This was turning into a busy night… He could not allow any more time to get into Luthor's research facility. Besides which it seemed fairly academic now. Judging by the howls, the wolves were out in Gotham. If they were killing Gotham's citizens he wanted to stop them. He just didn't want to think about how… He glanced over at Robin. He didn't want him involved with these creatures. They were killers.

"Go home. I'll deal with it from here."

"And let you have all the fun?"

"This is no game. Go home. Now."

"No way."

"I won't tell you again."

He pressed a button on the dashboard and the roof slid back whilst the car was speeding down the street. He raised an arm and a high tensile line shot out, wrapped round a fire escape and lifted Batman high into the streets. He had programmed his car to drop Robin off at his home as quickly as possible. He twisted in midair and fired another line to send him swinging through the streets.

There was one down there. He was thirty feet above it so he let go of the line and dropped the distance onto the creature's back. Not very subtle but these creatures didn't do subtle.

He crashed his boots into the animal's back and rolled off the creature into an alleyway. The werewolf howled in pain but didn't seem much slowed, and it leapt at him. Batman cartwheeled back, sending an exploding batarang into the creature's mouth as he did so. This did nothing but enrage the beast.

He sent a line around the animal to try and trip it up. It roared at him, tried to take a step towards him and tripped up on the line. Batman kicked it in the jaw sending the creature to sleep. He needed to get back to the cave and load up his belt with silver. He would need to take out the leader. Slade.

The streets were filling with screaming people, including several with bite wounds…

The animals seemed to be herding the crowds of people down the street. Almost like it was planned.

Several more werewolves were prowling around the crowd. A policeman who started shooting at them was leapt upon and ripped to pieces. Screams started up from the crowd and people started panicking and running down the streets.

Batman stalked down the streets towards them. A werewolf leapt at him with blood curdling roar and its teeth clashed together like thunder but there was nothing there… He had spun onto its back, attached a line to its legs and another to a lamppost, activated the motor, and left it hanging in midair. It was spitting and roaring in rage.

A woman with a pram was leapt upon by a werewolf. Batman leapt at her knocking her out of the way, getting in the way of those ferocious teeth and somehow ending up under the creature.

God it was strong.

He tried kicking it in the stomach but its claws were trying to rip through his armour. A sharp pain went in his shoulder, numbing his arm, but he locked away the pain and ignored it for when he had the luxury of time. Which he might not have much of unless he got it together. The woman he had rescued was running away with her baby.

Sensible.

Not like him. Its fetid breath was making him retch and its yellow eyes were boring into his. Its teeth were crashing together just an inch from his nose covering him in slobber.

Sort it out! This is no game! He elbowed it in the throat and tried to throw the creature over him using his legs but it was too damned heavy, and he was too damned weak. What the hell was wrong with him?

CS gas. He had a canister in his belt, if he could just get a hand towards it. It was too heavy though and those teeth were too close!

Stop complaining!

Do it!

He held his breath, pressed a button on his belt, and was enveloped in a cloud of CS gas. Enough to give this puppy a headache. While the beast was coughing and spluttering he rolled out from under it and sent a line skyward. Just after he left the ground two werewolves made a leap for him and ended up sprawled in a heap.

He clambered awkwardly onto the cornice of a building, nearly slipping on the moss there; his shoulder was giving him pain. He grimaced and looked down. He had been bitten, blood was pouring out over his armour…

* * *

****

**_Fifteen years ago…_**

Bruce and his friends had just freed Slade, and he rapidly changed form to a huge wolf and leapt down the corridor towards them, each paw splashing the puddles on the ground. Bruce, his reactions always fast, threw himself against the wall. The others were not so quick and got bowled over as the wolf ran past.

"Ow," said Lou, rubbing his shoulder. His voice went up a few octaves. "Let's release this strange man! My name's Bruce! I talk like this!"

"Well, it didn't seem right to leave him…"

"Where's he gone?"

"In that room," said Bruce, pointing down the corridor.

"Good," said Lou. "We're going that way." He pointed in the other direction.

"That's back the way we came. We can't get out that way…"

"While that way is past the bad tempered wolf man… Mmm! Let me think?"

"We've just rescued him! He won't hurt us…"

"Famous last words…" muttered Lou. "Like 'you're out of bullets' or 'You haven't the guts to shoot me'."

"Come on guys," said Bruce. "We just walk past very quietly."

"You walk past quietly," said Lou. "We'll walk past when he's busy eating you."

Bruce shook his head. No faith at all, some people. "We'll be fine. He seemed friendly enough…"

"You said that about Mr Wilson, our Chemistry teacher…"

"Right!"

"Right before he gave us a detention."

"That was a different case entirely. I didn't know sulphur was so smelly… Anyway, less talk, more walk."

They crept as silently as possible down the corridor. The door was in front of them. They could hear clinking sounds and heavy breathing. Bruce glanced in the door. He had changed back to a man and was busy releasing several more prisoners. A roaring sound started as they started changing. "I think we should run…" A howling sound erupted around them. "Now!"


	7. Chapter 7

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Seven – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Pain was coursing through the Batman's shoulder. He was not bothered about the pain, the pain could be controlled. Even the blood loss could be controlled. He always carried a small medi pack with him to seal wounds up. This he did pretty much straight away.

No it was not the pain or the blood loss he was worried about it. It was what it signified. What he could become. He looked down at the street below, now pretty much empty. The howls of the werewolves was disappearing into the distance.

He looked up at the full moon and grimaced. If he had been infected it would not be long… Would it be painful? Could he control himself? Would he… Could he kill because of it?

A sharp pain went through his hands and he looked down to see his hands tighten and claws ripped through his reinforced gloves. A cry of pain wracked his body but it sounded more like a howl…

* * *

The Joker grinned at the two heavily armoured Team Luthor men. He raised his purple gloved hands to the ceiling and giggled.

"I love your suits, dearie, did your Mummy make them for you? I bet you're a wow at fancy dress parties!"

This statement, from a man dressed in a purple clown suit, stopped them in their tracks for a couple of seconds… That was all Slade needed to rip them apart with his claws. The more werewolves that were out there the more powerful he became… The men were armoured with titanium that nothing short of a tank shell could burst through. He ripped through it like it was made of paper.

"Good doggy," said the Joker and picked up one of the guns off the floor. It was surprisingly heavy since the men who carried it had enhanced strength but he was very strong for such a lean man.

Slade warped back to his normal shape and concentrated on his brethren. There were more and more of them… Including one on a roof… The change was not happening as planned there, though. He was controlling the change. Defeating the change. That was not possible? He concentrated in on the man, forcing the change on him.

He grinned wider, showing fangs. Batman had been bitten! He could have his enemy as his minion!

"No!" Clouds covered the full moon. "No!" he cried again.

A purple gloved hand patted him on the shoulder. "There there, pooch, it might never happen." The Joker leapt back as if stung at the feral eyes that looked at him.

* * *

The moon hid behind clouds. All through Gotham various werewolves changed back to the men they had been before. Metallic collars around their neck clicked back into the smaller necks they were now surrounding and small barely audible beeps were heard. About a dozen men ran back under control to the Luthor research building leaving behind them streets full of maimed people.

Ambulances started ferrying injured people to the hospital. Despite all the injuries there were very few deaths… There were normally more casualties in one of the gang wars that occasionally erupted in Gotham.

Lex Luthor was pacing up and down in his office. The phone rang and he picked it up before the second ring.

"Luthor."

"They're all back, sir, and the hospitals are reporting about forty people there with bite marks. It has begun, sir."

"What about Slade?"

There was a brief silence at the end of the phone as if he knew the wrong word would not just cost him his job but his life. "I'm afraid we've lost him, sir… But we have got the Joker and his female companion. They've been badly bitten; we've got them in the infirmary."

"Get rid of them…"

"Pardon, sir?"

"I don't want the attention they'll bring. Get rid of them."

"Eerrrmm… how, sir?"

"Do I have to think of everything myself? Get an unmarked van and dump them in an alley or something. Let Gotham PD worry about them…"

"We also have a Mr Pennyworth on line two, sir; he says he would call before the Wayne Corp lawyers contact us in the morning. He claims that some members of Team Luthor trashed Wayne Manor. He is looking for compensation. I told him no members of Team Luthor would do such a thing."

"Where's his evidence?"

"He has footage from the security cameras there…"

"Tell him a batch of armour was stolen in Europe last week…"

"There would be no record of such a…"

"Add it into Interpol's record."

"Even so sir, people with Team Luthor's armour…"

"Send him a cheque."

"He also says the shock of such an event…"

"Send him two…"

"Also, sir…"

Luthor slammed the phone down. Wayne was still alive. Damn. He could not use Team Luthor again, those armoured fools would spoil everything. This needed a bit of subtlety. Batman was already dead. The people he sent after him would see to that. But Wayne could spoil his plan anyway. His mouth changed into a jagged smile as he thought of someone who fitted the bill perfectly…

* * *

"Woohooh!" said Deadshot to his taciturn metallic companion as they touched down. "Wow, what a ride! Now where's our batty target?"

The Cyborg glanced over at him, his eyes glowing red. "You search this area, I'll scout around." Without a look back he leapt into the night sky, his eyes started glowing blue as they scanned the area.

They had landed on one of Stratton Towers, one of Gotham's highest buildings. It was built in the fifties when the designers had been told: "Give this building towers! Give it pillars! Give it statues! Give this building huge windows! Give it lots of fire-escapes! Make it look modern! Make it look concrete! Make it seem like if you're outside this building where you really want to be in life is inside it!" As with a lot of buildings with multiple designers, instead of a sleek modern stylish building oozing style they got a building that put the buncle in carbuncle and in any architectural course was mentioned in the third week of how not to design a building.

It was grim.

It was nasty.

It was home to over 1,200 people, 35 different species of spider, four species of rat and one particular species of Bat…

It also had lots of shadows and places to hide.

Deadshot looked at the roof he was on. A trail of blood disappeared into the darkness. He looked down at his feet and grinned as he saw some black cloth. He picked it up and rubbed it between his fingers. It was made of some sort of high tech material that seemed to swallow the light that fell on it, leaving nothing but a black hole. It was also extremely strong.

Batman.

Judging by the blood, he was injured and around here. Probably still was…

There was a clicking sound and a gleaming magnum appeared in his hand. A lens appeared over one eye showing him everything apart from one patch of darkness just a few feet from him. The darkness where a pair of eyes gleamed at him…

* * *

Deep in the realms of the Internet chat rooms there is a strange sub class of people. People who don't just have interests but people who have hobbies. Serious hobbies. The type of people who have huge scrapbooks of carefully glued and labelled information on such curious things as kerbstones and how they've changed over time. Chat rooms where huge fights can erupt over whether the 1953 Chevrolet hub cap with the added fluting is better than the 1954 Chevrolet hub cap with the stainless steel bolt added.

This is a chat room where a Crazy4hubcaps352 is currently chatting to Hubcapnutter!432 about the benefits of chrome plastic over stainless steel when a new person enters the virtual room…

Anonnnymouse – "We need to talk, Crazy…"

A private room has been created.

Crazy4hubcaps352 "Another commission LL?"

Annonymouse – "I need someone dealt with?"

Crazy4hubcaps352 "How?"

Anonnnymouse – "Terminally."

Crazy4hubcaps352 – "Who?"

Anonnymouse – "Bruce Wayne. Payment $100,000 as per usual."

Crazy4hubcaps352 – "Preference?"

Anonnymouse – "Any. Soon. 24 hrs for preference."

Crazy4hubcaps352 has left the room

Anonnymouse has left the room.

* * *

Nightwing and Batgirl threw themselves through an office door as bullets tore up the corridor behind them. Flashes of light lit up the corridor behind them and a clanking sound started up the corridor towards them.

"Jeez, Batman is gonna kill us," groaned Nightwing, rubbing his shoulder where he had pushed the door down.

"Why?"

"He wanted a silent incursion here. The Gotham brass band would have made less noise than us." He looked up at the ceiling to see a pair of shapely legs disappear into the air vent. "Talk to myself, why don't I." He swore as a pair of red eyes appeared at the door and a machine gun opened up. He himself leapt up to the air vent and quickly followed her through. "They just don't make these things with heroes in mind." A few holes opened up in front of him and bullets pinged around him. "But it's better than out there…"

Nightwing forced himself through the air vent. "This place is filthy, cleaners should be fired…" Behind him metallic hands were tearing the metal apart…

In a dirty small flat in the unfashionable part of Metropolis was a small man with the beginnings of a beard. He shut down his computer and looked about his room with a thoughtful look. Several rusty hubcaps were nailed up on the wall and small signs were typed up and glued on the wall underneath them with details of what they were and where they were found in tiny crabbed handwriting.

There were half a dozen glass tanks around the walls and various animals and insects were crawling around. In one tank was a small puffer fish. All lovingly cared for and all with detailed instructions on how to look after them pasted on the tank. He also had several devices to feed them at various times when he was out.

He cracked his knuckles and smiled. All around the flat were piles of papers, with some small articles circled and occasionally headlines. All full of hard luck stories, swindlers, drug arrests, corrupt politicians, victims whose assailants had escaped justice. All people with a reason to see someone hurt. All potential customers. He only took on one or two cases a year. He only dealt in cash and preferred to deal with people he had dealt with before. Safer that way. No amount of cash was worth fifteen years inside or a ride on the electric express. And he was good. Oh yes, he was good. He might not be as flashy as these costume types but he did not attract attention, he could blend in, and he always poisoned his man.

In one case, he knew a local businessman he had been paid to ice always smoked one cigar after work. He changed his pack with one with a cigar dipped in the bladder of a Japanese Puffer fish, and was back home. It was three days later before he picked out the poisoned cigar… The coroner just called it food poisoning.

He knew Bruce Wayne. He was a collector of old cars. A collector of old hubcaps. If he could ice the man he would have his pick of the place.

There was one particular hubcap he wanted. It was on e-bay now, from a Silver Ghost from one of the original four models in the 1906 Olympia car show complete with the famous (in hubcap circles) chassis number of 60551. It was going for a small fortune. Bruce Wayne's untimely demise could pay for that!

Luthor would want the job carried out quickly though and he would be happy to oblige…

He opened up a small safe next to his seat and pulled out several rolls of banknotes and a small parcel with some items in it…

He looked at his watch… The nighttime Greyhound to Gotham was leaving in an hour. He could buy the ticket with cash so as not to leave a trace. With any luck he would be back in a day…

* * *

Batman could see Deadshot approach his hiding place. He was injured; he did not fancy his chances in a straight fight in his current condition. He would probably win, but at what cost?

Deadshot concentrated on the gloom. The Batman seemed to melt into the shadows; he couldn't be sure of his shot.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Batty boy!" said Deadshot, grinning as he spoke. "I've got a bullet with your name on it!"

Noiselessly Batman lowered a hand to his belt to get a Batarang. His shoulder was injured; he couldn't get much force in it. Deadshot tried to move out the way and the batarang clipped his head stunning him but as he fell he sent a fusillade of shots towards the Batman. Who was too injured and slow too move…


	8. All change please

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Eight – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Deadshot giggled as he saw his bullets pound into his foe. The Batman seemed to be hunched up on the roof. Behind Deadshot the clouds skittered away from the moon revealing his foe…

Now Deadshot, it has to be said, had experienced a lot in his short but remarkably violent life. His father was cruel to him and I don't just mean making him eat his vegetables or making him wait till 10 am on Christmas morning to open his presents. However, considering what Deadshot turned out like I would say he wasn't cruel enough. He had also spent several years in various jails, and not the kind of jails for tax dodgers, which have golf courses and cable TV. He was in the kind of jail where the lights are out by 9 pm and if you want a glass of water after that, then tough (unless you ask one of the guards very nicely)! He had, in a nutshell, seen a lot, which is why when a huge werewolf forced its way out from under the Batman's cloak he wasn't overly surprised…

He loosed several shots at the Batwolf but it didn't slow him down at all… Deadshot had a bit of a death wish it has to be said. He wouldn't ever kill himself but he often put himself in harm's way with a smile. However when that smile had lots of sharp teeth he decided against being in its way and he leapt none too acrobatically off the building…

* * *

Barry Fosco, the Metropolis poisoner, looked at the hubcaps of the Greyhound bus as he walked past it. Plain stainless steel hubcaps. He tutted. No changes from it since it was installed. He chuckled to himself as he thought of one Greyhound bus he had seen with a standard chrome with a black centre, apart from one front hubcap which was standard chrome with a white centre! Fools! He and his friends on the hubcaps chat room had a good laugh at that one…

He paid for his ticket in cash and sat down on the seat, carefully placing his bottle of coke down next to him. An attractive blonde girl sat down next to him and put down her bottle of coke next to his.

"Hello, I'm Kenneth, you can call me Ken," he said. He never gave his real name when going on a hit.

She gave him a quick glance to take in the green cardigan, scrubby beard and thick glasses. "Hi."

"Are you going to the Fourth Annual Hub Caps Reunion in Gotham as well? They're giving out free hubcap polishing kits to the first fifty through the gate! I'm going to camp outside for three nights. I bet you are as well? You look like a hubcap girl!"

She gave him a small smile and said. "Sorry, my seat's over here…"

"It's first come first served! You don't reserve a seat on a Greyhound!"

"Whatever!"

He sighed to himself. Curiously, women never seemed to share the same passion for hubcaps that he did. He picked up his bottle of coke and a tiny bottle from his pocket. It was a sleeping draught to help him catch some shuteye on the long drive. He was a master of potions and poisons. He added a couple of drops to the bottle of coke and took a sip from it.

"Sorry that's my drink I think…" said the girl, taking the bottle from his hands.

"Errr, no, that one's…" The drug was starting to slow him down already.

"Sheila," said the driver, looking back as he navigated the Metropolis Streets, "you couldn't give me a sip of coke could you? I'm parched."

"No, but that one's…" said Barry, the sleeping draught making his eyelids heavy.

The girl pointed at the bottle next to Barry. "That one's yours…"

"But you don't understand, it's…" he said, slurring his words.

The driver swigged back the drugged coke as he drove down the streets of downtown Metropolis. "Thanks, that's a real eye opener and no mistake."

"But you see…"

The girl took the bottle back. "Leave some for me…" She finished the bottle.

"The problem is… is…" Barry fell asleep and was quickly followed by the driver and the girl… The coach ran slowly through the central reservation and ended up fortuitously in the Metropolis City Impound Yard.

* * *

A red blur zipped down the side of the Gotham skyscraper and picked up a non-too gently falling Deadshot.

"My hero!"

* * *

Bruce Wayne's identity was normally subsumed by the Batman, now the Batman's identity was subsumed by the Wolf. The Batwolf leapt from the top of one skyscraper to the other, powerful muscles under his sleek coat rippling as he ran. He then leapt from the skyscraper through the window of a young woman's apartment. Glass smashed and tinkled over the linoleum and his claws dug into the floorboards.

A cat hissed and spat at him from the top of the cupboard. He prowled past a mirror and could see what he had become… All teeth and claws…

The door opened; the woman screamed, dropping her shopping over the carpet, and the Batwolf leapt past her towards the stairs and freedom…

* * *

Deep in the bowels of Lex Corp Towers lurk two of Gotham's finest. They are not lurking there out of any fine intent but more because someone or rather something is intent on finding them.

"Trapped in a metal tube," said Nightwing, "what a great day!"

"I don't like it here…" came a voice ahead of him.

"You're not the only one, Batgirl."

They worked their way up two floors and gently lowered themselves out into the room they were after. The server room.

The room was cool and very noisy from the air-conditioning and the sound of the servers in the background.

"Keep an eye out for anyone," said Nightwing to Batgirl. He unclipped a small device from his belt and plugged it into the USB port in the back of a server.

He pressed his comm. button. "R, this is N."

"R here, what's up, bro?"

"We're in Luthor Towers, B has asked us to hack Luthor's personal files."

"Don't get caught. Have you attached the USB device I gave you?"

"Yep. What's that noise in the background?

"I'm listening to music. B sent me home early…"

"You been a naughty boy?"

"Shut up… Just getting a signal…"There was the sound of the clattering of keys. "Are you sure you plugged it in properly?"

Nightwing went to the back of the server rack. "Yep."

"Is the server switched on?"

"How do I know?"

"Does it have any lights on?"

"No, this one doesn't, isn't that strange? I'll try another one. Don't you roll your eyes at me!"

"How did you know? Right, getting a signal. Yep, I'm in, just going to change their admin password. Okay, I'm on their network, searching for Luthor's files." There was a few seconds silence. "Got them! Right, downloading his files now onto the 400 gb USB drive. Most of them are encrypted but I can decrypt them here at my leisure once you get that drive to another computer; it'll take too long to download them from there, but I can open up a VPN link to their servers through..."

"And for those of us who don't speak geek?"

"Just sit back and chill out. By the way, should I tell Batgirl what your password is? What would Oracle say if she found out?"

"Shut up! And it refers to when Oracle was Batgirl anyway!"

"Yeah, yeah, and on late breaking news three pigs were spotted flying over Gotham!"

"Why've I got a weird whiny voice in my earpiece?"

Batgirl ghosted up behind Nightwing. "What was that about your password?"

"Nothing, nothing!"There was a chuckling sound from the comm link. "Shut up!" said Nightwing. "If you say anything to her I'll insert that computer into you blunt end first!"

Ten minutes later he was done and Nightwing was trying to avoid Batgirl's stare. "Thanks N. Just resetting their administrator account to FPrefect and changing their password to solongandthanksforallthefish just to annoy them! Have a good night, guys!"

* * *

The batwolf pounded down the Gotham streets. A primitive sense in him was taking him home. All over Gotham City wolves started to howl…

Nightwing removed the device from the back of the server and attached it to his belt. Batgirl motioned at him to stay silent and stay back from the door…

A red light lanced into the server room from the glass door, quickly joined by another, then another and another.

"Sniper sights," whispered Nightwing. "Stay down, Bat…." He looked around, he was alone. "Talk to myself, why don't I."

She had gone back into the air conditioning of the building. How to get past the glass door to the air conditioning? He got out a small dentist's mirror from his utility belt and looked around the corner. One of the red lights winked out. Then another. The mirror showed a black blur dancing around a team of heavily armed guards. They might as well have been armed with flowers for all the effect they were having.

The door hissed open and Batgirl walked in. "Are you going to wait here all day?"

* * *

Lex Luthor looked up at the sky as the moon hid itself for the last time that night. There was a slight cough behind him. Happerstein. One of his men. He would have to stop him doing that wretched coughing and start speaking to alert him. If he did it one more time he would cut his tongue out himself.

"Mr Luthor?"

"What is it, Happerstein?"

"The guards are conducting a search of the building and are starting a sweep of all the subway tunnels in the area. Slade seems to have disappeared; he does not appear on any of the cameras or security devices in the area either."

"Like a ghost…" murmured Luthor. The details were sketchy as to all of Slade's powers, but considering he had survived thousands of years he had to be pretty wily.

"Also, sir, you know the break-in in Luthor Towers?"

"What of it?"

"They have, eerrmm, broken out, sir. I have spoken to Bill and he spoke to the IT director and he spoke to Simon, you know the guy who set up the…"

"Cut to the chase, Happerstein, before I cut to your throat."

"Well, your personal files have been downloaded. Not your personal, personal files but the ones you had set up on there for such an eventuality?"

"Good, tell the Head of Security at Luthor Towers to analyze the break-in and protect against it happening again. Tell him the next break-in that happens, I'll mail him back to his wife in pieces."

"Sir, I've told you about that before. This is a company, not a gang; you can't use words like that. I'll just say it'll be mentioned at his next pay review." Happerstein licked his lips. "It's really not my place to ask, sir, but…"

"But what?"

"Those files that were stolen; what were they?"

"Just a little something to divert the Batman from where the real action is."

* * *

Waking up feeling battered, bruised or in one particularly memorable case hanging upside down over a tank of clownfish (the Joker had real trouble getting the piranhas at that time of night), was not new to him. However, waking up naked in bed with a headache was not something he'd experienced since his college days and then at least he had the advantage of who he had woken up next to… He did not like losing control.

Thoughts were coming back to him. He had been bitten. He raised a hand to his shoulder. It was fine.

He stood up, put some shorts on and stood in front of the mirror. The injury had healed up completely.

A cold draught forced the curtains into the room and he span around to see a huge hole in the window, the paw marks to the bed telling its own story...

There was a coughing sound from behind him.

"Good morning, sir, I trust you…" Alfred looked at the window. "Good heavens, sir, does this mean…"

"I'm a werewolf…"

"I was going to say I'll need to get the glazier on this side of the house as well, but that puts a completely different complexion on things."

"Yes."

"You'll have to curtail your night time activities."

"Yes."

"If people are expecting the Batman to rescue them and he rips their throat out, it will not do your public image much good…"

"I know."

"Don't expect me to take you for a walk in the evenings either…"

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Gotham hospital has a special wing for all those whom the Batman has taken off the streets. Since he often damages them first (a euphemism for breaking their bones and hanging them upside down from the nearest building) they often need several weeks in the hospital before spending several years in jail (or in the case of the more colourful inmates in Arkham, several weeks before they attend the Gotham Council Work Experience Projects for Homicidal Maniacs). The wing had its own security guards and a full time police presence. This had now been doubled since a new inmate was there…

He opened one eye first and surveyed his surroundings. White ceiling. Metal hospital bed and a stern looking policeman holding a shotgun in the corner. No, three policemen. He looked around some more. Better make that four. He opened his other eye and tried to rub his face.

Tied up.

Typical.

"I pay my health insurance regular as clockwork and this is the service they give me!"

"Nurse," growled one of the policemen. "The fruitcake's awake…"

"Fruitcake! Fruitcake!" he warbled. "That reminds me that last time I was here, they had some positively scrumptious sandwiches. I never tire of dry bread and cheese! Do they have the same imaginative chef now or has McDonalds snapped up such a talented cook?"

"Don't get too close to him," warned the officer. "Last nurse who got within range of those teeth lost her hand."

"Don't listen to him, ducky, I never bite on a first date. My memory is a little hazy as is my makeup; you couldn't touch up my lipstick could you?"

"No."

"You're mean! What happened to me anyway? Did the big bad boob have his wicked way with me again? I told him to get me back before midnight."

The nurse put on some disposable gloves and carefully removed some bandages round his arm and chest.

"Any lower my dear, and Harley will get jealous…" He fixed her with a beady eye. "I didn't ask you to stop…" He looked about him. "Where is Harley, anyway? Did she escape? Is she even now planning my rescue with some imaginative scheme involving a cucumber?"

"She's in the next room; she hasn't woken up yet. You were bitten by some sort of creature and left in an alleyway in downtown Gotham. Strangely, your wounds seem to have healed up."

The Joker narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice an octave. "Really? Really… The next time I meet Slade I'll put a smile on that toothy grin of his…"

* * *

After the Greyhound company had replaced their driver (the original one somewhat mysteriously had fallen asleep at the wheel) and paid the impound fee to get their coach out of the yard, it was now approaching the outskirts of Gotham.

Barry Fosco woke up to see the hazy grey buildings of Gotham out of the window. He smelt of old sweat and dirty clothes at the moment and his back had a crick in it from sleeping on the chair.

No matter.

He would book into a motel, clean himself up, and stake out his target. He already had a few ideas how to kill Bruce Wayne without even having to be within a hundred yards of him…

* * *

There were several hundred people bitten by the werewolves in last night's carnage… The more that were bitten the more power he had and now he had no pain with it…

The power was coursing through him.

Power that had not been seen on Earth for thousands of years…


	9. Chapter Nine

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome! 

**Chapter Nine – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Wayne Manor was a mass of workmen and scaffolding as the repairs to the damage done by Team Luthor was well underway. It was Luthor Construction that was dealing with it, a fact that neither Bruce nor Alfred was too happy about, but at least they seemed to be decent and fast workers. The supervisor, a huge bear of a man with a bloated stomach sticking out of his top, waddled over to Alfred.

"I thought they'd done away with this type of brickwork in the war," said the supervisor as he looked at one of the holes in the mansion. He scratched a hairy armpit and studied his finger with interest. Alfred shuddered slightly at this.

"Well, as you can see quite patently, they haven't."

"Do you want the same colour brick as you had before?"

"Yes."

"Can do you a nice section of green brick work. We still have some left after repairing the Metropolis stadium when Superman faced off with Metallo. I can do you a good deal on it."

"No, thank you."

"Do you want us to redo your driveway? I noticed a few potholes in it when we drove up."

"Those potholes were caused by Team Luthor, and yes, we do want them filled in."

"Tarmac or concrete?"

"Like for like, please."

The supervisor hissed through his yellow teeth. "I dunno if we can do that, you see…"

"That's no problem, shall I call Lex Luthor and ask him to call you?"

"Well, I'm sure we can…"

"Of course you can," said Alfred. "When will you be finished?"

"Well, hopefully by the end of today. I've got a few lads over in Keystone City. Captain Marvel knocked a hole in a few apartment blocks there. Some sort of alien invasion or some such…" The supervisor got a grubby bit of paper out of one pocket. "Oh yeah, also, you're out of coffee and the only biscuits you have left are those shortcake ones nobody likes… The lads were wondering if you could get some bourbon biscuits in? And you haven't got a copy of the Gotham Enquirer at all, have you?"

"We don't read such tawdry rags here," said Alfred.

"Fair enough, fair enough, of course I don't know how long this work will take…"

"If you could give me a shopping list, I'll see what I can get…"

He rubbed his hands together. "Certainly sir, certainly sir. If you could swing by Mickey D's on your way back, one of their breakfasts is always a rare treat!"

Alfred shuddered slightly at this thought. "I'll see what I can do, sir…" Alfred could see Bruce standing in the hallway behind him. "I'll be back shortly."

Bruce glowered at the builders. "When will they be gone?"

"Hopefully by the end of today, sir."

"I don't trust Luthor's men…"

"Me neither, sir, but the work needs doing."

"I've got to do some research on werewolves, I'll be in the cave."

"Certainly sir. You do remember that Miss Kyle is coming to dinner tonight?"

Bruce closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I might have to cancel.

"Nightfall isn't till 9:06 pm, sir, and do you really want her to know about your problem?" he added delicately.

"No, no." Bruce opened his eyes. "Could I have steak?"

"Certainly sir."

"Bloody as hell."

* * *

In a small internet café in the west side of Gotham a small man was busy researching. It was too early in the morning for anyone else to be there and the owner was busy staring into space, ignoring his one customer. Just a quick spray of Elikirisa and Ursortwac gave the man temporary amnesia…

It was amazing what you could find on the internet… There it was, a biography of Bruce Wayne on . Great philanthropist… Gives a lot to charity… Linked to several famous women… Nothing useful so far. Company deals a lot in security projects but nothing that harms anyone. God, what a dull person! What's the harm in causing harm?

There it is… Bruce Wayne supports local farmers and buys all his food locally. A great believer in organic food… There it is, buys all his food at Preston Ranch. Even a picture of his faithful servant, Alfred Pennyworth. Excellent! He even had a few ideas of what to use… He quickly skimmed through his details on the web… Excellent!

He quickly checked his small bag of potions and vials. He should have something here that could help him out…

Yes! A small vial of Tetrachloric acid. It was incredibly potent. It even worked on meta-humans… The ones who had been unfortunate enough to cross his path, anyway, and there was no known cure! Or none that he knew.

The resulting liquid was clear and odourless (curious, considering how it was made) and would, if applied to food, cause death in 48 hours… The wonderful thing was that poison would not be suspected (at least in his experience) and if they thought it was something they ate, or from an infected cut? Who would care! The farm would be blamed!

A quick check of his e-mails to see if he was missing anything… Some fool said he had seen a Ford Mustang 1962 copper hubcap in Wisconsin. Any idiot knew that copper hubcaps started in '65 for the Mustangs and finished in '68. He quickly sent an e-mail deriding him…

As he left the café he clicked his fingers at the Internet café's owner, who woke from his temporary amnesia unaware he had just missed twenty minutes of his life…

* * *

Deadshot grinned at the Cyborg, who had rescued him from his leap from the Gotham Tower.

"Well, we have a problem!"

"We have less than twelve hours to live unless we kill the Batman…"

"Yep!" Deadshot was curiously cheerful. "And I shot him several times and he just wouldn't lie down."

"We need a miracle…"

"We need a dog trainer… Do you know any?"

"What do you mean?"

"He turned into a large wolf. I didn't really hang around to see what happened next…"

"Wolf or man, I can kill him just as easily… This energy weapon can rip apart Superman himself." The Cyborg raised a metal arm that changed shape into a futuristic looking cannon. "However, the Batman is notoriously difficult to find; we need to draw him out somehow…"

"Any ideas?" asked Deadshot.

The Cyborg grinned, not that he had much choice with his metal teeth. "We need bait…"

* * *

Alfred got most of his food from a small farm just outside Gotham. It cost a bit more but it was all natural organic food. The wretched builders were eating him out of house and home! How dare they complain about the coffee? It wasn't Walmart's own brand, was what they were complaining about… He got the coffee shipped in especially from Venezuela and it was, to his refined mind, perfect.

He turned his attention back to the small farm shop he was in. The little man at the cash register was having some problems adding up all the items. "Your new here, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes." He rolled the steak over a few times before finding the price.

"What happened to Rick?"

"Something he ate…"

"Right, right." Alfred put all the items into the brown paper bag. Enough for the meal tonight and hopefully for the next few days… "Just put it on Mr Wayne's account, please?"

"No problem." The man with the funny little beard looked outside the window at Alfred's car. "Nice car."

"Thanks…"

"Bentley Arnage RL, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"Nice hubcaps…"

* * *

The cave was dark with just the glow of the computer monitor screens in the corner. The bats for once were ignoring the part of the cave that Batman was in.

"Oracle," growled the Batman. "We've got a problem…"

"What's that?"

He was silent for nearly for a minute. "I've been bitten by a werewolf. I need to know any known cures. If I can't get a cure, then Luthor and Slade will run roughshod over my city."

"Luthor? What's he got to do with this?"

"I don't know… You should be getting some data from Nightwing soon."

"He's already downloaded the data from Luthor's database, I haven't had a chance to examine it yet… What are you after?"

"Luthor is in Gotham, his men tried to kill Bruce Wayne…"

"They tried to kill you? What happened?"

"They ran into me…" Batman sighed. "I need to know what he's thinking and why…"

"I'll be in touch soon…"

The sound of drills and workmen pervaded the cave; he kept one eye on various scanners in the manor, just to make sure they weren't doing anything they shouldn't be. Aside from gawking at his twelve foot plasma screen they were doing their job. A light footfall came on the stairs behind him. Without looking behind him he said, "You're back early."

"Yes, sir, although how you heard me with all that ambient noise in the background I will never know. They have got coffee and biscuits and seem to be happy. You'll be here for some time?"

"Yes," he said without looking round. He jabbed a needle into his arm and took a blood sample to examine. "You're still here…"

"You need to eat, sir. I have got you some fresh food today, sir. I have prepared a ham and mustard sandwich and a mug of coffee for you. Your favourite, sir."

"I'll eat when I have time…"

"You need to eat, sir…"

"I _said_ I'll eat when I have time."

Alfred left the plate (the sandwich was wrapped in silver foil to keep it fresh) and the coffee mug next to Batman.

"I'll eat when I have time…" He muttered as he started to examine his blood under the microscope.

* * *

Gotham City Bank. Two men, one with a face hidden by a dark hood, strolled into the bank. A security guard walked over to the man with the hood and asked him to take his hood off.

That was his mistake…

The guard was pistol whipped to the ground. A woman customer ran out of the bank screaming.

One of the men drew out a silver magnum. "Everybody on the floor!"

The other man, with his face heavily shadowed in his hooded top, his voice like broken glass, said, "Give us the cash and nobody gets hurt…"

One of the bank tellers calmly started filling a bag up with money, as with her knee she hit the silent alarm...

She smiled at the two men. "This may take some time, gentlemen…"

A bulletproof screen hissed down, covering the bank teller's window. A security door dropped down over the door…

"We gotta problem here, bub!"

One of the customers started to run for the door. The man with the silver magnum grabbed her and pushed her to the ground…

"I wanna see some cash here or I start offing people!"

The sound of sirens started outside…

* * *

Bullock wound down the window of the car as they raced to the scene. It was cold outside but better that than the stink of Gordon's cigars.

"What we got here?" growled Gordon.

"Hostage situation…" Bullock listened into the crackle of the police band as they approached the area. "Two perps have at least ten hostages and won't leave until they see some dough… The bank dropped the bulletproof shields when they walked in…"

"Goddamm it, they should have given them the money and let them walk away…"

"Hell, commish, since when have banks had common sense? They won't give me an overdraft, for a start!"

Gordon thought that showed they had a lot of common sense, but he kept quiet. "Call in a SWAT team. We got any cameras on in the inside?"

"Uh huh. One of them has shot the cameras out. He sounds like a regular Billy the Kid. He winged a couple of our boys as they wrecked the joint. He shot their damn badges off… He said the next police officer he sees he'll shoot their eyes out! Regular charmer!"

Gordon looked out at the depressingly blue and sunny sky… If only it was nighttime, they might get a Bat-like visitor. During the day it was touch and go whether he appeared or not. With a bit of luck he has already heard about it…

* * *

Batman studied his blood under the microscope. He did not believe the "magical change" theory of werewolves. There had to be a scientific explanation for it… There had to be… There also had to be a cure. There has to be a cure… All the information he had on werewolves was how to kill them: silver bullets. Preferably silver from melted down crucifixes. Nothing on how to cure them. Apart from the death of the one who bit them to start with. That was a route he would not go down. He would not kill…

But neither could he countenance nights without being Batman. He would rather be dead…

If he metamorphosed into a killer he would kill himself first. He could not, would not be what he fought against…

Unthinkingly he reached a hand over to the sandwich and started peeling off the silver foil…

A beep sound came from the computer and words scrolled across the screen.

"HEIST IN PROGRESS GOTHAM CENTRAL BANK… HOSTAGES TAKEN… URGENT HELP REQUIRED. MORE INFORMATION TO FOLLOW…"

He put the sandwich down… Food and his problems would have to wait… He pulled his mask over his head and pressed a button on his belt. The throaty roar of the Batmobile's V8 engines filled the cave.

* * *

The hospitals of Gotham were filled with minor miracles, and not just getting a drink out of a machine that actually tastes of coffee, but medical miracles! The evening before, the emergency wards had been filled with people with bite marks. By the morning all 47 casualties had healed up, with nothing to show for their stay but a depleted bank account…

The Gotham News Channel had first of all run several stories on the spate of animal attacks in Gotham at night, but when they realised these attacks had stopped they moved on…They had run their one interview all morning and realised that nothing else was happening with it, especially as the newsworthy pictures of stricken, mutilated people in hospitals got replaced with non newsworthy pictures of healthy people strolling home.

Besides which there was a bank hostage situation! The air above the bank was filled with helicopters from the various news channels all breathlessly telling their viewers that although nothing was actually happening at the moment, they expected that to change any moment!

What they didn't realise was that something was already happening under their noses…

Batman did not normally like being out in daylight, it didn't do his night-demon image any good… In this case he had no choice though… Even with bright sunlight you got shadows and patches of darkness though, and Gotham was a city of shadows. Besides which, there is more than one way to sneak about Gotham without being noticed…

* * *

Gordon got out his thermos flask and unscrewed the top. The smell of coffee permeated the air and he sipped it black. He glanced over at the bank. One of his hostage negotiators was talking to the men inside on the phone. There was nothing much more he could do now.

A pizza delivery moped rolled up next to him….

The man on the bike got out a piece of paper. "Got a request for four king size pizzas at the bank."

"Yeah," said Gordon. "The bank robbers have asked for four pizzas in exchange for four hostages. We'll take the pizza in for you."

"Naaah, more than my job's worth. I've gotta get this paper signed, see…" The man furrowed his forehead as he thought. "Who's gonna pay for this, then?"

"We'll pay," said Gordon. "Are you sure you're okay taking them in? You don't want body armour or anything?"

"Ruin the line of my suit. I'm fine." The moped buzzed up to the entrance of the bank.

The man with a silver magnum opened the door to the bank and grinned when he saw the pizzas arriving, and motioned for him to walk in…

"Thanks! We got the pizzas and an extra hostage!"

Gordon cursed. A pizza delivery moped rolled up next to him.

"We got a request for four king size pizzas here? Sorry for the delay, somebody stole my bike; I had to borrow this one…" He looked in confusion at the two men. "What's wrong? Haven't you seen pizza before?"

* * *

Alfred sighed as he walked down the stairs to the cave. Bruce had not eaten or drunk anything as usual. He picked up the coffee and the sandwich.

Typical. He had left it alone.

He looked disappointedly at the sandwich and threw it away. It was one of his favourite types. The food from the farm was always exquisite, though…

Curiously, he was feeling a little rough after the meal he had just finished. Probably stress or lack of sleep though. Unlike Bruce, he found he needed his sleep.

* * *

Batman carefully lowered the pizzas onto the floor and looked at the two men holding up the bank. Half a dozen hostages were sitting cross-legged on the floor. He recognised one of the hostage takers as Deadshot, and the second he couldn't make out because of the hood. What were they doing in his town? Holding up banks was not really Deadshot's scene. Deadshot was lethal; he would have to take them both down. Hard.

Deadshot lifted up the pizza box. "Does this have anchovies?"

"No."

"Good, I just hate anchovies. Does anybody actually like anchovies? It's the same with Hawaiian pizza! What's the point in that? You don't put fruit on a pizza…" He lifted up the lid and the air was filled with tear gas.

Deadshot rose to his feet, a magnum flickering into his hand. Batman grabbed his wrist with one hand, his other arm elbowing him in Deadshot's chin. Deadshot was stunned by this and tried to raise his gun hand, only to realise that the Batman had dismantled his gun….

The other man swung a punch at the Batman but he easily evaded it. He punched Deadshot square on the chin whilst simultaneously sweeping his legs out to trip up the other man. He then ripped the second magnum from Deadshot's hand and sent a punch to his throat. The other man he sent three drug tipped darts to the face.

There was a pinging sound as the darts bounced off his metallic face.

Batman cuffed the unconscious Deadshot. He then ripped off his pizza delivery mask to reveal the sinister mask of the Batman and turned to face the other man.

The Cyborg lowered his hood revealing his metallic, skull-like face. His bionic hand folded back in on itself revealing a powerful energy cannon, which he pointed at the Batman…


	10. Chapter Ten

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Ten – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

There are several ways to deal with a man with a gun. My own favourite method is a brick wall, a heavily armed swat team and an ocean in the way. If the gun ejects a cartridge it is possible to jam the exit point of the cartridge, jamming the weapon. It is also possible via something called joint manipulation (not something you smoke at college) to bend fingers and thumbs the way they shouldn't go to make them drop the gun. Or it is even possible to press the centre of the hand forcefully; this hits a nerve cluster and makes the fingers open.

All these methods and dozens more besides, the Batman knew and had tried more times than he cared to remember. None of them would work against a man with the strength of Superman who had an energy weapon melded into his very arm.

The Cyborg fired, a stream of glowing energy heading towards where the Batman was standing. The relevant word being 'was'. He leapt into the air and twisted impossibly to land behind the Cyborg.

The front of the bank exploded in a vivid red explosion. Bricks and mortar went flying in parabolic curves, smashing windows and cars. Bits of paper wafted down over the waiting police line.

Batman lanced out a leg at knee height to the Cyborg to try and cripple him.

A pain lanced through his leg.

It was like kicking concrete.

The Cyborg whirled around and pushed the Batman back through the now open back of the bank and hundreds of feet into the air…

* * *

Alfred sat down heavily at the table. His vision was starting to blur. What could be wrong?

Just need some sleep, that's all. Just some sleep.

* * *

Batman was flying through the air, uncontrollably. If he was to hit a building at this speed, there would be nothing recognisable left of him.

He adopted the classic skydiver position and twisted in mid air to see where he was going.

A building.

Gotham Metropolis Library, to be precise, but that information would not help him. He pushed his legs back to try and change direction. It worked but only slightly. He got a line from his belt and threw it around a fire escape. It caught and slowed his ascent.

He twisted round a corner in the street and let go of the line as he got tangled in some washing lines like a fly in a spider's web. A whistling sound came to his ears and he saw the red streak of the Cyborg heading towards him at incredible speed.

* * *

Luthor was drumming his hands incessantly against the desk. He was waiting for the phone to ring and he hated waiting.

The phone rang and he snatched it off the receiver.

"Luthor."

"Hi, Mr Luthor. I represent Phones Direct. Do you pay the household bills?"

"Get off the phone."

"I reckon we could make you some substantial savings."

"Get off the phone."

"Do you know what your average phone bill is, sir?"

"I will have you hunted down."

"That's our job sir, but seriously, Phones Direct can."

"Do you know what happened to the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah?"

"Biblical cities, destroyed by the hand of God? Right."

"What happened to them will be as nothing compared with what will happen to you."

"That only happened because they did not have Phones Direct!"

Luthor slammed the phone down.

"Happersen!"

A tall white haired man in an expensive business suit strode up behind him. "Sir?"

"Buy up Phones Direct and have their call centre staff digging for coal in Death Valley by the end of the day."

"Sir, Death Valley is mainly Pre-Cambrian rocks. There will be no coal there."

"Good."

The phone rang again and Luthor picked it up, slightly more hesitantly this time. "Mr Luthor?"

"Yes."

"This is Amanda Waller, the leader of Task Force X. We thought you might be interested to know that the Cyborg has engaged the Batman. He should be out of your hair soon."

Luthor unconsciously wiped his bald head at this. "Excellent. Let me know when he succeeds."

"Yes sir." The phone clicked down.

"Happersen?"

"Yes sir."

"How long have we got before nightfall?"

"About another six hours sir."

"We need to find Slade before then. Extend the area of search and find him."

"We need more men then, sir."

"Contact the GCPD if you need to, but find him!"

* * *

The dark tunnels under the City of Gotham echo to sounds of metallic feet. Team Luthor are searching the area. Sewers are pretty unpleasant places at the best of times. At least when it rains it stays liquid and flowing, but when the rain stops it dries up into a sludge that is foul smelling at best and positively lethal at worst.

The men of Team Luthor have specially adapted armour that filters out the smell and toxins in the air.

The tunnel glows red, then green as various scanners are used to check the area. There is a flicker of movement as a dozen rats run away from the noise of Team Luthor.

A metallic voice broke the silence. "Tunnel 35c clear, sir. Apart from the rats. This is a waste of time, there is nothing down here. Slade has long since got out of here."

There was the sound of rats running down the tunnel towards the men of Team Luthor.

"Stupid rats." He picked up his scanner. "What the hell are they running from?"

At his feet was a mass of squeaking terror-ridden rodents. His scanner quickly flicked through the various stages. Ultraviolet. Nothing. X-ray. Nothing. Sonar, beta radiation, electro-magnetic radiation. Still nothing.

He looked quizzically up the tunnel. A rat, squeaking in terror, was picked up by some invisible force from the tunnel floor and crushed against the wall.

Oh boy.

He raised his chain gun and rattled a few thousand bullets down the tunnel. The bullets bounced and scraped down the tunnel. The place was echoing and re-echoing with the sound of the bullets.

There was a clanking sound as another case of bullets attached itself mechanically to his gun.

"I think I found him, sir," he said to his communicator. The sound of static greeted him. The armour of Team Luthor is a marvel of modern technology. It makes the wearer extraordinarily strong, invulnerable to most forms of attack and with a vision system modelled on the dragon fly, that means the wearer can literally see what's happening all around him in a variety of modes from infrared to x-ray.

However.

One problem with it is that the wearer cannot move particularly fast.

In front of him a shadowy form appeared for just a brief second. The form of a huge wolf.

The man was grabbed by an invisible force and slammed with armour breaking speed against the walls of the sewer.

* * *

The Batman tried to halt his fall by grabbing hold of some washing lines. One of them snapped and whipped upwards, sending the masked man down.

A wave of heat swept over his head.

The Cyborg was firing at him.

He let go of the washing line and fell the rest of the way to the ground. Another shot swept through his cloak, tearing a long line through the bullet proof Kevlar like it was made of paper. His nose was assailed with the acrid smell of burning.

He landed awkwardly on the sidewalk and rolled to his feet. Various undergarments and clothes wafted down with him. A surprised looking woman stared at this man, dressed like a demon but covered with various damp shirts and jeans.

He looked up and could see the Cyborg floating about twenty feet above him like an ancient Greek God.

He threw himself at the woman and pushed her out of the way as the street behind him erupted in flames and bits of stone and brick.

Batman had been trained for years on how to react to enemy fire. It is called 'Reaction to Effective Enemy Fire.' What this basically entails is running to make yourself a hard target and acquiring a safe area to either escape or find an area to launch a successful attack on your assailant. This was a technique the Batman had used for years against such foes as the Joker, KGBeast and even the army and police Swat teams.

It was a technique he was very good at.

He was pretty much stuck on the ground here. He ran, ducking and weaving down the street, his dark cloak hiding his form pretty well. A car was hit to his left and sent sailing into the air in a plume of superheated air. The air was full of burning and hissing sounds as the energy beams whistled overhead.

The Cyborg was getting furious and loosed shot after shot after him. The street was a mass of broken and melted paving slabs and burning cars. It was sheer good fortune that no civilians were injured.

Where had the Batman gone?

The sound of a door slamming shut came from the other side of the street. The

Cyborg's arm-cannon folded back in on itself with a series of clicking noises and formed his arm again.

The door the Batman had escaped through was made of half-foot thick steel. This part of Gotham was a known haunt of both the Joker and Two-face, and anyone who wanted to live here had to take home security seriously or they would not live at all.

The door might as well have been made of tissue paper as he burst through it, sending bits of warped metal bouncing down the corridor. The floor beneath his feet was a mass of free papers and old yellowing letters. The carpet was old and worn and a strange musty smell filled the air.

The Cyborg stopped and listened and concentrated. If he wanted to he could hear a pin drop a hundred miles away. The air was full of sounds of a busy bustling city. He could hear the sound of police sirens and calls coming in on the surrounding police radios.

Concentrate!

He could hear everything going on in the building now. Taps dripping. Televisions spewing their ads into empty rooms. Curtains rustling against the walls. The sound of cockroaches marching across kitchen floors. The sound of feet running up the stairs above him.

He did not bother taking the stairs, he just flew up at the ceiling, erupting through floor after floor. Beneath him he could hear the shocked screams of Gotham residents as he burst through the floors like a living missile.

The Batman was sent hurtling down the stairs as the Cyborg burst through the stairs beneath him. The air was filled with dust and wooden splinters as he leapt at the masked man.

His hands closed round nothing.

He span around in confusion, creating a small vortex that knocked a door down and sent several pictures hurtling off the floor.

Where the hell had he gone?

He felt something on his foot and was blown through the building by the plastic explosive the Batman had attached to him.

The Batman was fighting back.

* * *

Alfred collapsed on the chair. He had a lot of duties to do, he knew. A lot. He tried to get up but felt weak.

This was ridiculous; what would Master Bruce say if he saw him like this. He had been overworking recently; it must be that.

He had to prepare dinner for his guests tonight. He had to clean the place up. The builders had left the house in a fearful mess. He was sure the lawn would need several weeks of patient ministrations to get it to what it was. There was dust over all the fine china. There were coffee mugs abandoned all over the house.

He needed to get up and tidy the place.

But he couldn't.

He could see strange figures in the periphery of his vision. He tried to get to his feet but they skirted out of sight as he turned around. He sat down heavily and closed his eyes. He could still see the shadow figures and they seemed to gather around him, hiding him from the world of men.

The Oracle, or Barbara Gordon, was examining the data that Nightwing and Batgirl had downloaded from Luthor Towers.

The data had been encrypted and she did not have the encryption keys. It appeared to use some sort of symmetric key encryption by an algorithm. Bruce Wayne had supplied her with four liquid nitrogen cooled Cray computers. Each one with 200 processors and capable of over 2 billion calculations a second.

She would need every one of them and they hummed louder as they got to work. Luthor's file security was second to none. She had several recovery agents on her computer and she assigned each Cray computer to work on each file. Four of the screens next to her were suddenly a mass of numbers and data as the files were decrypted.

She arched her hands and sat back patiently. Now was just the waiting game.

* * *

Slade was not human. Not any more. He was drawing on the power of nearly forty werewolves in the city. He just needed a few dozen more to have God-like powers and he would rule this city like the spirits in his day.

* * *

The Cyborg was sent flying out so fast by the explosion that he landed with a crash in the building opposite. It was an old power station. It had been closed down when the new hydro-electric station had opened up outside the City. It was now a mass of ageing rusting generators.

A single halogen bulb that had been alight for years illuminated the place in a yellowish glow. Several moths were fluttering uselessly around it. He got to his feet shakily and looked around the building.

Where was he?

Every step he took crunched broken glass beneath his feet. The sun cast several beams through the dusty atmosphere.

Concentrate, he cannot be far away. He slowly rose in the air and spun around gently, his eyes and ears taking in everything. High above the building he could hear a police helicopter approaching and also what sounded like a flight of F16 planes. He could even hear the pilots in the planes hunting him down.

No threat to him. Not down here.

Unlike the nanites coursing through his system. He had only two hours in which to kill the Batman or they would kill him. A shadow swept over him and landed in the corner opposite him.

He flew over to where he had seen the shadow land.

Nothing.

He could not afford this time. Energy poured from his eyes like a torrent, setting the ageing building alight in a second. The huge metal furnace designed to withstand temperatures of 2000 degrees Celsius melted like a candle in the depths of hell. The Cyborg grinned as he heard a scream from the depths of the flames.

* * *

The furnace protected him from the worse of it but it was still too hot to withstand. He cursed as the flames licked up around him. His suit was fireproof to a large degree but nothing like this. The heat was overwhelming, stealing his strength, melting his belt to his suit. The brickwork behind crumbled at the inferno and he threw himself out of the building, his clothes and cape smouldering. The acrid smell of smoke assailed his nostrils. In the distance he could hear the sound of explosions as the fire set off the gas mains.

Despite himself he screamed to try and control the pain coursing through his body. The Cyborg heard him and grabbed him by his smouldering cloak and leapt into the sky with him.

The speed of the slipstream put out the flames, he gasped in shock at the cold air. His ears started popping as they went higher and higher to approaching 30,000 feet. Beneath him Gotham looked quite idyllic, little lights flickering, belying the horror of the situation he was in.

"I'm going to crush the life from your body." The Cyborg started to squeeze the Batman's neck with one metallic hand. "Yeaaargh!"

An F16 plane had loosed a sidewinder missile at the Cyborg hitting him square in the back. The impervious form of the Cyborg had protected the Batman from harm but he was sent hurtling from the Cyborg's clutches and into freefall.

His ears were still ringing from the explosion when he realised how high he was. Above him he could see several F16's engage the Cyborg with machine guns and missiles. He tried to breathe but there was too little oxygen at that height and he blacked out.

* * *

File decryption complete

The Oracle looked up from her work to see that the files had been decrypted.

"Finally, let's see what you are planning, Luthor."

Streams of data shot across the screen. Data involving plans and reams of instructions passed in front of her eyes.

* * *

The voice crackled into the communicator.

"Mr Luthor, this is Eileen Engler, of Team Luthor 12, we've got a confirmation of Slade's whereabouts."

"Tell me more."

"His power is growing, he has adopted a corporeal presence but he has not achieved the stage you mentioned in your initial briefing."

"Good, that will probably happen tonight unless we stop him now, and I don't want it to happen."

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Contain him as per orders, 7G."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Batman regained consciousness about 15,000 feet from the earth. Up above him he could see several explosions as the F16's engaged the Cyborg. One F16 was sent spinning, smoking and sparking from the fight and as it exploded a parachute bloomed into existence above him as the pilot ejected. That was not his fight though. Now his fight was mere survival. The wind was whistling past his ears, threatening to pull off his cowl.

He was falling at about 120 mph. At this speed he would not just fall and land, he would fall and bounce and what landed would not be identifiable by dentistry or looks. DNA would be easy enough though; there would be more than enough of him around.

This kind of morbid thought would get him nowhere.

His belt was warped and melted by the extreme heat he had been through. On the plus side, his new werewolf genes were healing up his burns but they would not be able to deal with landing in Gotham at 120 mph.

Have to slow down. He grabbed the edges of his cape and stretched out in freefall, trying to hang-glide. Anything to stop or slow down his speed.

He cursed as he span uncontrollably in midair. A glance behind him showed the problem.

His cape was a mockery of what it had been.

Torn, ripped and burnt. It would not have slowed down a dead spider let alone a dying bat.

He needed something to break the fall and fast. His keen eyes looked at Gotham with a survivor's instinct. Any large expanse of water was worse than useless, it would be lethal. The water would not be able to move away in time to slow down his fall. It would be like hitting concrete.

He remembered reading about Vesna Vulovic, a flight attendant who in 1972 had survived a fall from 33,000 feet in the tail of an exploded DC-9 jetliner. She landed in snow and survived. There were also several World War two airmen who survived falls from similar heights. It was possible.

However, they were not falling over Gotham. Gotham at this time of year had a real lack of snow. This was a time that Mr Freeze could make a timely appearance, but considering he had last left him hanging upside down on a lamppost in the East side of Gotham it was unlikely.

One square metre of cloth could provide enough drag to slow a human's fall by about 70. Shame most of it had been burnt off his back.

Not even the five-point landing could save him from this. This was where you meet the ground with your feet together, and fall sideways in such a way that five parts of your body successively absorb the shock, equally and in this order: feet, calf, thigh, buttock, and shoulder. 120 divided by 5 24. Not bad! 24 mph is only a bit faster than the speed at which experienced parachutists land, however it would require millimetric skill and timing and 24 mph was still enough to kill even a man of the Batman's prodigious skills and training.

He needed trees. Lots of them, and now.

Bending his legs back and putting his arms to his side he started to head towards Gotham State Park.

He did not just need a normal tree. If he fell on an oak or an ash the strong branches would undoubtedly rip his limbs off. What eventually reached the ground would not be enough to cover a small water biscuit.

No he was after a conifer, and thankfully he knew where there were some. The Wayne Corp Corporation had paid for several acres of parkland to be planted with them as part of an urban development programme.

The branches of a conifer are small, thin and light at the top and slowly thicken as they approach the ground. As long as a man keeps his feet together, hands by his side and hit the tree at a parallel angle to the tree close to the stem he could survive.

Well that's what the theory says. Now to put it into practice.

He could start to hear the sounds of life beneath him. Dogs barking. The irate beep of Gotham taxi drivers. People selling the Gotham Herald, dogs barking in the park.

The first 30,000 feet was easy it would be the final 30 feet that could make or break him.


	11. Chapter 11

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Eleven – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

CRASH!

He landed perfectly at the top of the conifer.

A lancing pain shot up his leg and his arm was twisted violently around as he fell through the branches at an incredible speed.

"Aaah!"

The remnants of his cloak were ripped from his back. A branch lashed at his face, breaking his nose. He crashed against more branches, thicker this time, and one pierced his armour and broke a rib.

Suddenly he was through the bottom of the branches and he fell with a thump on the soft pine needles of the park floor; all his plans of a five-point landing had gone with the shock of the impact, but thankfully he was going so slowly at that time that he only sprained an ankle.

His head was spinning and his cowl was half off his face. He groaned loudly and got to his feet. He had broken his nose many times before and with a practiced hand put it back into place. There was a horrible clicking sound a rush of blood down his face and his eyes watered.

Still, he was alive; he had a lot to be thankful for. He knew his rib was broken but he could still breathe without pain, so he knew it had not pierced a lung. He had sprained his arm but not broken it, thankfully.

His new werewolf genetics healed him up slowly as he limped through the forest and back into Gotham.

Two muggers tried to attack him as he left the park and with barely a thought he disarmed them, knocked them out and threw their weapons down the drain.

He felt his belt for the remote control for the Batmobile but his belt had been melted to his suit and the electronics fused.

He needed to get home quickly. The skies above were quiet, showing that the F16's had seen off the Cyborg. Several squadrons had been designed specifically to fight meta-humans.

Keeping to the shadows, the Batman limped back to his car.

* * *

Eileen Engler, one of Team Luthor's finest, got several devices from a metal briefcase she carried with her. They had been picked up from the Lex Corp Science Division and to be honest she did not trust them.

They were part of a containment field designed to catch - what had they called them? Non-corporeal astral presence. She knew what she called them.

Ghosts.

She had stopped believing in ghosts at about the same time she stopped believing in the tooth fairy. She had been about five years old when she had caught her brother stealing the money she had seen her mother put under her pillow. Her brother had needed the tooth fairy after that.

She hadn't joined Team Luthor to fight ghosts and goblins. She had joined to catch and stop international criminals.

Still, she thought as she placed the devices about in the tunnel, if it turned up she would knock its teeth out.

A growling sound started down the tunnel.

Ghosts don't exist, she thought as her vision clicked through several scopes. Infra-red, x-ray, zeon, omega. All showing nothing. The final one clicked in; the world was bathed in a pale blue light and the little green label in the corner of her vision just said 'Astral Plane'. She almost fell back in shock.

There was a huge ghostly wolf in the tunnel with glowing eyes and fangs that could cut a whale to death.

He tried to leap towards her but the devices started glowing as energy ripped into the ghostly wolf to try and hold him down.

She walked slowly backwards, her armour not allowing a run, and spoke quickly into her communicator.

"Control, this is Engler, I have a confirmed visual on Slade, I need reinforcements here now!"

With a final struggle Slade ripped himself free of the energy that was holding him and the ghostly form leaped towards Engler.

* * *

By the time the Batman reached his car he had pretty much healed up. He used a thumbprint scanner to gain access to the car and sat down gratefully.

With a throaty roar the engines started and the car leapt down the road towards home. He looked at himself in the mirror in the car and grimaced. He was a mess. His face was covered in soot and blood and his cowl had been ripped half from his head.

Still, he was alive.

An electronic warble came from the dashboard. Batman pressed a button and a small screen lit up, showing the attractive face of the Oracle.

"Hey Batman, you look like…"

"I know."

"Bad day?"

"Not my best. Have you managed to decode Luthor's files?"

"No small talk with you, is it?"

Silence answered her.

"Well, the files indicate that Luthor is hunting an immortal called Slade, who it seems is a shapeshifting werewolf."

"I know that. Why?"

"Apparently his plan is to devastate Gotham. Make the citizens flee in fear of the werewolves, then buy up the real estate at a knock-down price. He wants Bruce Wayne out of the way permanently since he is the biggest property owner in Gotham."

"It makes no sense. How would he get rid of the werewolves when Gotham was empty?"

There was silence again. Batman could see her bite her lip as she tried to find the words.

"What?"

"He has made the genetic structure of the werewolves deliberately unstable. Anyone bitten or infected by them has less than two weeks to live. He reckons by then Gotham will have been all but abandoned and he will be able to buy up the real estate at rock bottom prices. Then when the werewolves have gone he will be not only the biggest landowner in America but the richest and most powerful man in the world."

Batman clenched his steering wheel tightly, his fingers digging into the reinforced plastic. "I will be no use to anyone dead. I need to find a cure and stop him, now."

The car roared towards Wayne Manor. He pressed a button on the dashboard.

Nothing.

He pressed it again, a bit more irritated this time.

Still nothing.

Where was Alfred? A small kernel of fear grew in him, but he squashed it instantly. It could be any one of a number of reasons why Alfred was not replying. Luthor wanted to kill Wayne - had he killed Alfred as well?

He coaxed more speed out of the car and a vortex formed behind it as it headed home.

* * *

Gordon checked his shirt pocket for matches and found a packet. Gratefully he pulled it out, only to realise it was empty.

"Bullock," he growled then raised his hand as the officer threw him a cigarette lighter. He sighed contentedly as he sent a plume of smoke into the middle of the room.

"You really shouldn't smoke in here," said Deadshot, who was currently sitting between two burly officers in the interrogation room.

"Like I care what a freak like you thinks." Gordon sat down heavily and eyeballed Deadshot. "What are you doing in Gotham then, son; this isn't your normal hangout."

"I'm a tourist."

"You should be locked up, counting walls in your cell. According to our records you were. Would you mind telling us what you're doing out?"

"Taking in the sights."

"If I had my way, the only sights you would see would be on the wrong end of a Swat sniper team." Gordon shook his head.

"Aren't you supposed to get me a coffee?" asked Deadshot.

Gordon didn't turn around. "Bullock, get Deadman here a coffee, and me one too while you're up."

"Two sugars please, and have you any of that chocolate you sprinkle on the top?"

"You'll get what you're given, son. If I had my way it would be just you, me, and Smith and Wesson." Bullock lumbered out of the room, slamming the huge reinforced metal door behind him.

"Nice man, isn't he?"

"Who let you go and what are you teamed up with that Cyborg creep for?"

Deadshot glanced at the clock in the interrogation room. He had less than an hour to live. He had been injected with explosive nannites, as had the Cyborg, that would be triggered if the Batman still lived. And here he was swapping pleasantries with a hard-boiled policeman. And if he had his way he would be.

"What the…?" Gordon looked at the steel door to the interrogation room, that was spurting dust from the hinges. There were a few loud clanging sounds and several fist sized dents appeared in it. Then the door was wrenched off its hinges and something red shot in, grabbed Deadshot, and then was gone

Several seconds later Bullock came walking in with a tray of coffee mugs.

"Didn't we used to have a door here?"

* * *

Batman pressed a button on the console of his car, and a hidden cave opened up in the hill in front of him for just a couple of seconds. The car roared down the tunnel towards the Batcave.

He slammed the handbrake on and leapt out of the car as soon as the hood slid back.

"Alfred?" he called. "Alfred?"

He tried to take his costume off, but it was melted and battered. One of his cardinal rules was never to wear the Batsuit in the house. In the end he just ripped the suit off him and left it in a garbage bin. Seconds later he was washing the grime of the day off in a power shower he had set up in side room in the cave.

He shuddered. God, it had been close. Too close. He did not deserve to be breathing, let alone walking upright.

He grabbed a towel and dried himself off quickly, and then changed into a cleaned and pressed suit he always kept there.

Where was Alfred? Probably out shopping or something. Still, not like him.

He walked quickly up the stairs towards the clock that hid the cave from the rest of the house. There were a few monitors and scanners just beside the door that he checked before opening the door.

"Alfred?" he called again. He looked around the house irritably. The builders had left several mugs of half drunk coffee about the place. There was the sign of concrete dust under windows where they had fixed the windows. They seemed to have done a good job but the place was a mess. This wasn't like Alfred.

His heart skipped a beat as he passed a chair; what he first thought was a pile of old clothes was Alfred. There he was! He ran to the chair and picked up his hand to check his pulse.

Weak and fluttering, but still there.

Alfred's eyes flickered open when they saw him. "I'm sorry sir, I don't know what's…"

"Don't try and speak." said Bruce. "I'll get help."

Several minutes later he had called an ambulance and made Alfred comfortable.

Stay calm, use that damn analytical brain you're so proud of. Look at the facts. Has he had a heart attack?

No.

Some sort of accident?

No.

Some kind of stroke?

No, wrong symptoms.

What are the symptoms, look at the symptoms.

Poisoning. He's been poisoned.

Bruce heard the ambulance in the distance and walked to the door to open it. He pressed a button by the door to open the gates to the mansion and watched the ambulance head up towards the mansion.

How could he get food poisoning when he's always so careful? It must have been artificially induced.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the door and two men leapt out and grabbed a stretcher from the back and ran towards the door.

Bruce explained what had happened and told them he would visit him in the hospital soon.

"Keep me informed," he growled before they left. If he had been poisoned there had to be a cure.

Had to be, he repeated to himself.

* * *

Amanda Waller, the head of the suicide squad, looked at the two monitors she had next to her. They were both giving her live feeds of what was happening in Gotham. There was a clock in the corner counting down the minutes that the Cyborg and Deadshot had left to live. They only had two minutes left.

She grimaced at the latest information that appeared on the screen. The Batman had somehow survived his encounter with the Cyborg.

Luthor would not be pleased.

She looked down curiously at her left elbow. A cup of steaming coffee was there that wasn't there before.

She picked it up to sip it when she heard a metallic cough behind her. She span the chair around and could see the Cyborg and Deadshot had infiltrated her office.

"We were wondering," said Deadshot.

"Yes?" Amanda said cautiously. Their life span was mere seconds now.

"When these nannites explode in our head, what's the blast radius?"

"About three metres." She shook her head and smiled. "You'll be dead in seconds. You can't threaten me."

Deadshot moved to within a few centimetres of her face, well within the blast range, and said, "Oh, but we can. Let's talk terms?"

* * *

Bruce Wayne was in the kitchen. It was a place he rarely visited now since it was Alfred's domain.

There was a paper bag from Preston Ranch, where he got all his food. There was a receipt from the place. No-one had infiltrated the mansion, that he was sure of. The builders had not been anywhere near the kitchen, scanning sensors he left about the mansion confirmed that, that only left the Ranch.

He would find who had poisoned Alfred and get the antidote from him.

What if there was no antidote?

His mobile phone rang. He answered it with a terse, "Wayne."

"Hi, Mr Wayne. I'm Doctor Allinson from Gotham State…"

"I know where you are from. How is Alfred?"

"He is not in a good state, I'm afraid. We don't know what is wrong with him."

"He's been poisoned."

"Well, if we could have a sample of what he was poisoned with, we might be in with a fighting chance."

"How long?"

"An hour. Two hours maximum, after that…" Bruce clicked the disconnect call on his phone. He hadn't time to bandy words with a doctor.

He needed to get to the Ranch quickly. He walked to the front door. He pressed a hidden button next to an armoured knight as he walked past and a silver metal suitcase slid out from a hidden compartment under the stairs.

It was very heavy but he picked it up like it was a light as a feather, and he strode out of the mansion towards the garage.

A couple of minutes later he was roaring down the road towards Preston Ranch. The afternoon light was starting to fade. Soon the moon would be up.

* * *

Luthor was being driven at high speed through the Gotham traffic towards where Slade was being fought by his men when his phone rang.

"Luthor."

"You wanted to be informed when your files were cracked, sir?"

"Yes."

"Well, your special files have been accessed. Considering the level of security, I wasn't expecting them to be opened so soon."

"Good, by the time the Batman discovers the truth it will be too late."

* * *

Preston Ranch was closed to business when Bruce drove in. There was a hand-written sign on the door saying the owner was "off sick". The door to the ranch presented no problems to him and he could not have opened it faster with a key. He stood in the entrance of the shop, not moving for a few seconds, his eyes taking in every detail of the layout, from the door to the cash register.

He walked over to the cash register. It was an old-style one. There was a spike on it that the owner jabbed receipts onto. Bruce put on some rubber gloves and carefully removed the top couple. The second one down was slightly different handwriting from the others. The man who had written it had made a good attempt at copying the handwriting of the owner, but there were a few important differences to the slant, size and pressure of the letters.

He carefully removed it as evidence. He quickly checked the rubbish bin for any evidence and the drawers and shelves around. Nothing, whoever had been here had been careful. He got out a small aerosol can and sprayed the surface of the cash register; it contained an antibody that would make fingerprints show up under infrared light. He got out a small infrared torch and the fingerprints on the cash register showed up. There was only one set of fingerprints there; several were smudged, showing someone had been using gloves when they were here. He took a picture of the prints and scanned them into a small palm-top computer he carried about with him. They accessed the computers back in the cave and then onto the fingerprint records of over 30 police forces and intelligence services in America and abroad.

A couple of minutes later a match was found. John Preston, the owner of the ranch. He had a criminal conviction for drunk and disorderly when he was 18.

Nothing since then.

Unlikely to be the poisoner then.

Whoever the poisoner was, he was careful.

He then walked slowly out back to his car, taking care to step in the same places he had walked in. He had parked his car on the grass verge to as not to damage tracks. There were several dozen car tracks he could see, most at least a day or two old, judging by the weathering on the side of the tracks. Some fresh tracks were from a yellow cab, judging by the tread marks. A local tyre company had a deal with them so he knew their style of old.

He grabbed his mobile, a non traceable phone, and rang a number.

"Gotham cabs," came the gruff voice.

"Hi, I'm at Preston Ranch, I'm trying to track a friend of mine down. He said he would meet me here but I got caught in traffic. Have you taken him back home?"

"What do we look like, a charity?"

"I'll tip double if you can get me there."

"Just a sec, I'll ask."

Bruce held his breath as he waited. "Yeah, we took him to the Hersham Motel on East side a couple of hours back. Do you wanna cab?"

Bruce disconnected the call and gave a grim smile. Seconds later he was in his car heading back to Gotham.

* * *

Team Luthor had the tunnel surrounded with astral plane containment devices. Several of the devices were smoking and sparking with the pressure but they were holding. Tendrils of energy could be seen holding Slade in the energy prison.

One of the technicians tutted as he looked at the readings on his laptop.

"The energy he is expending is incredible, and it is getting higher all the time."

"What does Luthor want with him?" asked his colleague

There was a coughing sound behind him and the technician cursed quietly. "**Mr** Luthor," said the bald headed villain, "wants him for a very special role. One about which all of Gotham will find out soon enough."

* * *

Barry Fosco, the Metropolis Poisoner, was quickly throwing his few belongings into a bag. He had already binned all the clothes he had worn when he poisoned the food. He came. He poisoned. He went.

He had the blinds closed and the light, a single bare bulb, bathed the room in a yellowish tinge.

He didn't like being watched.

He never stayed around after setting his poison, too dangerous; even if the poison failed he would leave. Not worth the risk. The longer he was around, the more chance of being caught. He was busy cleaning the hotel room he had stayed in. He wiped down the toilet and the walls with his own special brew. It was a mixture of bleach and light acid. It would remove any biological remains he might have left behind. With police detection so advanced now he could not risk even a strand of DNA left behind. The mixture would break down all protein and biological elements left behind, even hair.

He worked methodically and carefully, his hair in a plastic shower cap and wearing plastic clothing to leave as little evidence as possible. He had left his belongings in the corner and was carefully covering the carpet in a light covering of the spray.

The room had never been cleaner.

Sadly, he had had to forgo public transport and use a taxi to get to the ranch. He shrugged his shoulders; he had used cash though, and he only ever gave notes he had treated with his solution. He had used a false name and had carefully researched the motel to make sure they didn't have CCTV.

The risk was minimal.

He would be back in Metropolis in a few hours; no-one would be able to track him down there.

The light winked out above, casting the room into stygian darkness. He looked up in confusion, one hand reaching behind him for a small snub-nosed pistol he always carried. He never used it, preferring the delicacies of poison, but in his business a bit of self-protection was always recommended.

Dust spurted from the hinges of the door of the motel room he was in, and a huge booming sound echoed around. He staggered back to the middle of the room, pointing his gun at the door.

With another powerful kick the door came flying into the room, and a huge dark indistinct shape launched at him, ripping the gun from his hand before he had a chance to fire.

His other hand reached for a stiletto he kept in his belt but his hand was crushed by one huge black-gloved hand.

He whimpered in pain and tried to stagger back, but an elbow caught him a glancing blow on the chin and he collapsed unconscious on the ground…

Several minutes later he woke up. He couldn't move his arms or legs.

Not good.

He seemed to be upside down and someone had tied a blindfold round him so he couldn't see.

Not good.

He could hear a rustling sound, like wind through the branches of a tree. What was that? He tried to get out of his bonds and started swinging gently in the breeze. He was up high.

Definitely not good.

"So you're awake?" The voice was deep and foreboding.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He tried to sound confident, but it's difficult to sound confident when you are hanging upside down above god knows what.

"You poisoned a man today; I want to know what it was and what's the cure."

He started laughing. "Me poison? You can't prove nuthin'."

"You had a small bag of poisons with you. Which one did you use?"

"I work with tropical animals and deal with their maladies. You need a wide range of chemicals for that kind of work. Let me go!"

The voice chuckled but there was no humour in the sound. "I don't think you understand your position."

His mask was ripped off and he screamed as he saw what he was above. He was hanging just above a live power line about fifty feet above the ground. The crackling sound was the electric current passing through the cables. He couldn't see his tormentor from where he was, but he could just see the scalloped edge of a black cloak. The mask was put back on him. He tried to recover his confidence. "It's Batman, isn't it? Are you the Bat?" He could feel himself being gently lowered. "Woah! Woah! Slow down! You won't kill, right? I've heard of you! You never kill!"

"Who said anything about kill? I was just going to barbecue you a bit."

He lowered down a bit further. "Woah! Woah!" The crackling sound of the electricity got closer and closer to his ears until it was all he could hear and think about. "I used Tetrachloric acid! Tetrachloric acid! For god's sake let me go!"

He could hear the clinking sound of the masked man looking through the bottles he carried in his bag.

"Where's the antidote?"

"There isn't one!"

He felt a huge hand grab him by the throat and pull him upwards. "Not good enough. Do you want to die?"

"There's no antidote! No antidote! For god's sake you must believe me! If anyone has been poisoned, they die!"


	12. Chapter 12

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Twelve – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

A cold feeling took Batman's heart.

"You're lying," he said and lowered the man a couple of inches closer to the crackling power lines.

"For god's sake no!" The man twitched and spun like a caught fish but his fear was obvious.

"No cure? I'll poison you myself!"

Batman grabbed the man by the throat and forced his mouth open. Fosco twitched in fear and then screamed as a few drops of liquid hit his tongue. "No! For god's sake no!"

Impassively the Batman stared at him.

Fosco started crying. "You don't know what you've done! You've killed me! Do you know what you've done?" He looked up at his blank-faced tormenter.

The Batman raised a hand. "You've just swallowed tetrachloric acid."

Fosco was a physical wreck, sobbing and crying.

"What will you do?" he hissed.

"There is nothing I can do! It always kills! Do you understand what you've done?"

"Where is the antidote?"

"Killed me! You've killed me!"

He did not know a cure.

"It's only water," said the Batman.

Fosco blinked back the tears. "Truly?"

Batman said nothing, pulled him up and detached him from the line. "You're going to explain this to the cops."

The Batman leapt head first from the top of the pylon, loosing a line at the last possible moment and Fosco screamed in fear as the ground approached.

* * *

A short while later five hugely heavy armoured trucks pulled up to the side of Gotham Hospital. Several ambulances shot past them on their way to a traffic accident in Gotham's east side. Despite their infamous visitor the normal humdrum life of the hospital continued.

These trucks were for a very special, albeit temporary, visitor the hospital had. The Joker had been treated there and was now being whisked back to Arkham.

The Joker and Harley had been bitten by a werewolf earlier in the day and his wounds had healed. This was not known though, and the staff of the hospital was just keen to get rid of the Joker.

Send him back to Arkham.

Where he belongs.

Hope one of the other animals in there will do what no one in the city has.

The staff there had seen too many victims of the Joker to waste any sympathy on the man.

The five trucks were there to leave at the same time just in case a rescue attempt was made. Cloud the issue; make life difficult for them. Despite his psychosis he had friends and allies who would do almost anything to free him.

Each truck had a swat team accompanying it and a police helicopter in the sky above it. They would all take different routes to the asylum.

The Joker disturbed and terrified all who came into contact with him. It was not just his sallow skin and rictus-like grin; it was his pure evil randomness. It was like dealing with a rabid dog; you just did not know if he would bite you or lick you. Neither of which were nice options.

"Oh goody, I'm leaving!" said the Joker as they bundled him into one of the huge armoured vans. Four huge guards were with him. They were all dressed in body armour and darkened helmets. It seemed incongruous for the tall thin man dressed in his trademark purple silk suit to be so pushed around by such men, until you realised what he represented.

Chaos.

Destruction.

Death on a scale that rivalled some diseases. And like some diseases, there was no cure.

"We couldn't swing by the comic store on the way out, could we? I've read all the magazines in Arkham."

"Get in there." A guard pushed him roughly into the back of the van.

"You'll be fun company! Can I sit in the front?"

"No."

"Can I? Can I, huh? Can I sit in the front? It's my turn!" The Joker jiggled up and down like a hyperactive toddler.

"No."

"I never sit in the front! You're mean! Let's have a car game!" He clapped his hands together and the chains that tied his wrists and feet together tinkled quite melodically. The Joker laughed at the sound and carried on clapping louder and louder, the chains rattling louder and louder. "I choose! My choice! My choice! What about 'guess the road kill'?"

"What?"

"I run someone or something over and you have to guess what it is!" The Joker put his hands under his chin and gave a heartfelt sigh. "I love that game! Can I play? Can I? Huh? Can I?"

There was a thumping sound on top of the van and the whole van shook slightly. Then a thin metal line wrapped round the Joker and lifted him up from the shocked grasp of the guards.

The guards raised their guns to the top of the van to see the Joker in the grip of the Batman.

"Batman, put the Joker down!" yelled one of the guards, his gun pointed at the dark figure.

"You heard the man, Bub! What are you doing, Batty?" He gave the Batman a cherubic look. "Missing me? Worried that someone else caught me instead of you? You must be missing your touch, bat boy!"

"What happened to you?" the Batman asked gruffly. His eyes were already scanning the bite marks in the Joker's clothes. "You were bitten." It wasn't so much a question as a statement. "Where were you bitten?" He then winced as he realised the opening he had left.

"On the shoulder, are you blind? Oh, you're a bat of course you are. What are you doing out in daylight, got the day off work stacking shelves?"

"Where's the man who bit you?"

"You're jealous!"

The Batman did not answer, just lifted him up from the roof of the truck with one hand, his eyes boring into the Joker's.

"I can tell you're jealous!"

He was wasting time here; he would get no information from him. Batman pushed him off the roof of the van and, using the cable, swung the Joker through the door where he landed with a painful thump on the floor of the van. With a flick of his wrist he detached the line he had wrapped around the Joker.

"Tell them in Arkham he's been bitten by a werewolf. The same as Harley."

"What?"

"Keep them out of the moonlight."

"Are you mad?"

"Do it or the next time you go driving it'll be in a hearse." With a swish of his cloak he was gone.

The guards looked in the darkness of the van. The Joker got to his feet with a clink of his chains. His eyes glittered dangerously in the gloom. "Stay out of the moonlight! I sound like a gremlin! Those little critters have nothing on me!"

* * *

Luthor was putting the finishing touches to his plan in the tunnels under Gotham. The astral plane containment fields were working well and a ghostly wolf was contained. The wolf disappeared and Slade appeared in his physical form.

"I will soon have mastery over the spirit world."

One of the technicians looked down in confusion at this.

"And this one."

"Ignore him," said Luthor. "Continue working."

One of the technicians looked at Slade. "Who are you?"

Slade's eyes glowed red for an instant and the technician turned back to his console.

"Don't look at him, he will try and confuse you, continue the work," said Luthor. The room was surrounded on all sides with armoured Team Luthor men and about a dozen technicians all busy configuring the containment fields.

For just a second the eyes of the technician who had spoken to Slade glowed red as he continued working.

* * *

Batman gently let himself through the window of the terminal ward. This was where the dying were kept to spend their last few hours. The last thing they would want to see was a black clad demonic figure. He would not stay long.

Some local volunteers and an old priest visited here every day, bringing fresh flowers, talking and reading stories to the patients and sometimes just sitting there. Just being there for some people in their last hours was just as important as talking to somebody. It was a given that no one ever died alone here.

There he was.

Alfred.

His face was sunken and old, his skin like parchment. It was something Batman had not noticed in the past few years. Alfred had always been there. Batman had been so consumed in his quest that he had given no real thought to him.

Had he had a childhood?

Of course he had. What had he wanted as a child? Had he ever wanted more than to be a servant? He must have had dreams and aspirations. And for it all to end here in a cold hospital bed, victim of poison…

By all accounts it should be Batman lying there, breathing his last. He reached down a black-gloved hand to Alfred's hand.

Sorry, old friend.

Sorry.

There was a hiss of shock behind him. He swished around to see a nurse standing there, her hand up to her mouth.

"Don't scream," he said huskily and raised a hand towards her. "This man has been poisoned." His hand opened up to show her a small vial of liquid. "This."

Wordlessly, just looking wide-eyed into his face, she raised a hand. Her hand seemed small and delicate compared with his. He dropped the vial in her open hand.

"I… I…" he stammered, "don't have a cure. No antidote."

She clutched the vial in her hand and started backing towards the door. "Please save him." The words sounded alien coming from a creature of the night like him. His voice cracked. "Please."

Not trusting himself to stay, he stalked to the window. He allowed himself one last glance back at the bed before launching himself out into the Gotham skyline.

If Alfred died the person responsible for this would pay.

And the manner of the payment would make the criminals of this world shake in fear.

* * *

Luthor was still in Gotham, that much Batman knew, and that meant something bad would happen. He quickly finished with the lathe in the Batcave.

He looked at the helmet he had made and sighed. It still had the trademark ears but it was designed so that no moonlight could get through the visor, it was purely one-way vision.

Would it work though?

Was moonlight the trigger for the transformation or was it something subtler?

He could not know until he went out. He was damned if he would spend the night in the cave whilst this was going on.

The computer speakers beeped rapidly for a few seconds. He had a call coming in.

He pressed a button to connect the call. The Oracle's features filled the screen.

"Anything?"

She looked away from the screen and shook her head once. "I've been through all the medical files and records for over thirty-five countries. I've even been through a lot of the alternative remedies." Her lip twitched slightly at this. "If you dance naked round Stonehenge at …"

"I don't care about me, I'm talking about Alfred!"

She sighed. "No, nothing for him either, I'm afraid. Every time someone has ingested tetrachloric acid, they die. I have found no possible cure for people being bitten by werewolves either, besides the death of the one who bit you, but that is just an old folk tale and I have found no evidence that it works."

Batman put on the helmet. It was shaped around his head and covered his face completely. He had adapted it from one of the Team Luthor helmets he had found and cannibalised.

"Very nice. Very Hell's Angels."

"There is one person who might be able to help."

"Who?"

"Slade."

"He might not want to help you though. The last time you met him as a teenager, you blew the building up with him inside."

"Can't take all the credit, it wasn't just me."

"Considering he has killed your other companions of the time he might not take kindly to you."

"If he'll help me, I've got something he wants."

"What?"

Batman stayed silent and put the helmet on. "Where was Luthor last seen?"

A screen flicked on in front of him, showing him a map of Gotham. A glowing red cross showed a location close to the Luthor research base.

"I've got Luthor's mobile number and I've been monitoring its location. From the signals it looks like they've caught Slade. I'm picking up some very strange energy readings from there."

"Then that's where Slade is."

Batman stood up; the Batmobile's lights flicked on as the turntable it was on span it around so it was facing the exit.

The masked man hit a communicator button as he roared down the slope in the heavily armoured car.

"R, this is B."

There was a few seconds static.

"R, this is B," he said again impatiently.

"Put that down, ugly," came Robin's voice. "No, not you, B. Yeah you, I'm talking to you. Put that down or I'll feed it to you."

"What?"

"Not you, B, not you. Didn't I make myself clear?" There were various swishing sounds and heavy thumps. "God, a face only a mother could love. Assuming she was blind, mad and preferably a warthog. No, not you, B!"

"I have placed a tracker on the Joker's van. They are taking Harley and the Joker to Arkham. If moonlight touches either of them they will turn into a werewolf. I have warned the guards but I would be happier if you were monitoring them. If he does change, report directly to me. Under no account do you engage him."

"What part of my fist did you not understand?" There were various punching sounds. "No, not you, B, not you. Standard frequency is it?"

"Yes."

"I'll be on it as soon as I put these boys down. Put that gun down, pal, I'm watching you." There was a whistling sound followed by a heavy thump. "What's with villains nowadays? They don't listen before and they can't afterwards!"

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yes. Silly question but shouldn't you be staying indoors as well?"

"Probably, but I can't stay in tonight, of all nights. It ends tonight, one way or another."

* * *

The occasional glimpses of moon flickered through the skudding clouds. In the more dangerous parts of Gotham residents hurried back to lock themselves behind steel doors and barred windows.

The van with the Joker in it was taking a different route to Arkham than the others. Since there were twelve vans, they were taking twelve different routes to confuse any escape attempts. Trying to avoid the other vans took it into a part of Gotham rather away from the normal tourist haunts. In fact the last tourist to visit here returned home in three separate boxes.

Sporadic gunfire erupted around them as they weaved through the streets. Potholes remained unfilled in this part of Gotham and garbage bins spilled out onto the street. Several rats scuttled out of the way of the van.

The lights of the van cut through the darkness, showing the gangland marks of two rival gangs, the Gotham bloods and the Crips.

The sound of laughing echoed through the van, even with the armour plating behind him and the bullet proof glass in front of him.

The guards behind him were hunched up, trying to ignore the mania that was washing over them. The Joker was chained to the side of the van and trying unsuccessfully to have a game of rock, paper, scissors. Although with his traditional warped view it was magma, guillotine, and chainsaw.

"Perform a u-turn where possible," the charming voice of the GPS system said. The little glowing screen of the GPS system showed a huge question mark and the words "back on track".

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled the driver. Trying to avoid the other vans was proving more difficult than he would have thought; twice they had encountered the others and twice they had gone off in the other direction. Their GPS system was now trying to get back on track to Arkham.

"Turn right here."

"No."

"Next right turn in 800 yards."

"I don't care."

"Turn right here."

He looked right and could see one of the other vans trundling towards him. "No."

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

"Bog off!"

"Perform a u-turn where possible." The melodic voice of the GPS system was at odds with the strained and angry voice of the driver.

"Next right turn 500 yards."

"Tell it to someone who cares."

"Turn right here."

"Okay, okay." He was getting fed up with the thing. He was entertaining visions of flushing it down the toilet.

This was an alleyway.

A narrow alleyway.

"Where have you taken me?"

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

"Why did you ask me to turn right here? How can I do a u-turn? The next u-turn you will see will be a u-bend." The alleyway could just about fit the van but it could not turn at all. He trundled slowly down the alleyway, the wing mirrors scraped down the side. Several bags of rubbish exploded their fetid contents about as he drove over them.

"You're playing 'guess the road kill'!" their purple clothed prisoner warbled.

The police escort was trying to keep up behind them.

"Perform a u-turn where possible."

This was getting stupid. He slammed the brakes on. The police car behind him started hooting its horn in an irate way. He hooted it back.

He clunked through the gears and found reverse and tried to drive the van back through the alleyway. There was a horrible scraping sound as the van got stuck. After some inventive swearing and clunking the gears back and forth he realised he was jammed in.

"Perform a u-turn where possible." He grabbed the GPS and gained no small pleasure by chucking it out the window and smashing it against the wall.

He pressed the communicator button. "Card carrier to base, I'm stuck here."

"We read you card carrier, stay there, the police will cordon the area off and another van will be along shortly."

"Err, by the way, the Batman said we have to keep the Joker out of the moonlight, he's apparently…"

"Just stay put, card carrier, the nearest van is one minute away."

He tried to open the door but the wall was too close, he couldn't get out. The guards opened the door at the back of the van and a beam of moonlight shone in.

"We gotta keep him out of…" one of the guards started. The Joker started laughing but it sounded more like a growl.


	13. Possession

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Thirteen – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

The medical orderlies waited patiently by Alfred Pennyworth's bed. They maintained a respectful silence as they did always in these little moments. When a life had run its last.

This was Bruce Wayne's servant and they thought, but did not say, how heartless it was that he was not there at the end.

But Bruce Wayne was a fop and a playboy. A wastrel and a squanderer. Why would he want his rose-tinted life tainted by death?

The priest finished his small service, sending Alfred's soul skywards and his cold body was put onto the gurney and sent on its lonely way to the mortuary.

* * *

Robin did not think, just acted as he heard the growling coming from deep in the van. He leapt off his precarious perch sending a high tensile d-cel line around a fire escape as he fell.

His feet crashed against the door of the van sending the Joker beast flying back inside with a howl. He turned around and could see the shaking sights of a police swat team.

"Get your men out of here," he growled to the police captain leading the team. He turned back to the van that was shaking as the werewolf struggled to escape. The metal of the door warped and bent as it struggled to contain the fury of the beast within. "Now."

For a moment the Captain thought he was dealing with the Batman himself, such was the authority in his words.

"We'll fall back and maintain a perimeter, evacuate this block." The Captain held a hand up to his ear. "We've got reports of more of these beasts again! They are emerging all through Gotham this time!"

* * *

Batman was as still as a statue as he examined the building that Luthor had Slade captive in. There were several guards outside the building and his specially adapted binoculars could detect the heat signatures of at least a dozen inside the building, including the heavily armoured Team Luthor men.

They looked confident.

Rightly so.

He knew then what he had to do but the tactic bothered him. It was high risk and chances of survival were low. He mulled over a half a dozen other strategies and tactics but none would stand even a slight chance.

His communicator buzzed lightly in his ear.

"B, this is R."

"Yes?"

"The Joker has escaped and has turned into a werewolf."

He cursed silently to himself. He needed to finish the werewolf threat now; if he could it might stop all the werewolves over the city. "Stay out of its way, make sure no civilians or police are hurt, and Robin?"

"Yes."

"Be careful."

"It's me?" There was a click indicating the conversation was at an end.

The Batman began to prepare for the assault. He sat down cross-legged, eyes closed, settling himself into the illusion of elsewhere. Fear, stress and tiredness melted away as he got into the mindset to do what was necessary. He rose silently and made his way like a ghost towards the guards.

They never knew what hit them.

* * *

The soul of the technician struggled briefly as the beast that was in Slade fought for control of him. The unequal struggle lasted for mere seconds as he took control.

He could see his new face reflected in the monitor screen and lots of calculations and code were in front of him. Now all meaningless to him. He cast his mind around him and could immediately felt a presence as driven as himself.

Luthor.

His mind was like jagged steel, all corners, edges and dark areas.

A mind like Slade had been when he had taken him over 7,000 years ago. Now he was free of him. Slade had called him the wolf god when he had fought him in the spirit planes thousands of years ago.

But he was not.

He was older than mere wolves. His spirit had floated aimlessly over the planet for millions of years. He had seen and possessed creatures as diverse as single cell amoeba to giant Tyrannosaurus Rex.

He was immortal.

Unliving, unkillable. He would still be here when the human race was naught but dry bones in the dust. The spirit world and this one was as one to him.

He had allowed Slade to think he had beaten him, but all these years he had been driving him, leading him to murder. He had never had the power to possess more than one creature until this Luthor had changed something in all the werewolves. He would cover the world in blood, bone and his creatures.

Slade was nothing, a worthless carcass now. All this time he had allowed him to think he had control of him.

He was wrong.

Slade stopped him from achieving godhood. He squinted slightly and could see the souls of the men around him.

The men around him had souls sullied and dirtied just by working for Luthor. Luthor.

He grinned to himself, his soul was all scales and teeth and claws.

A powerful man.

A man not easily led, though.

Still, with the right encouragement he could give him the power he needed.

The power he had craved for hundreds of thousands of years.

"We're losing the energy field, what are you doing, Buxton?"

One of the technicians was talking to him. His power was growing as people bitten the previous night changed into werewolves, taking more and more of them with them. He was starting to get beyond the need to control and possess mere mortals.

It would be so easy to reach into his mind and pinch the artery that fed his brain shut.

A bright light emerged from the doorway.

A man with the form of a demon and the soul of an angel approached. He changed his vision to the mortal plane again and smiled as he saw the Batman approach.

Now that is a man worth possessing. He grinned again, this time his teeth sharpened and he could feel claws struggling to escape his fingers. He stopped this with an irritable thought. This shell of the body he was in now was weak and feeble. It would not last long. The soul of the technician had been sent to the netherworld with barely a whimper. Without the body's original soul it would not last long.

As far as anyone knew, the real danger was trapped in the astral containment field. It would take him a few more hours before he had god-like power. He could feel the pychic energy of the other werewolves joining him.

* * *

Two heavily armed guards slid noiselessly to the ground as the Batman stalked into the room. He moved with a grace common to all exceptional martial artists. His blackened helmet hid all sight of his human form from them.

Luthor was the first to see him.

"Batman, stay your ground!"

The helmeted man stared noiselessly at Slade, who was stuck in the containment field. Curiously, the immortal was looking older than he once had. His once fine blonde hair was going grey, even as he watched. A fine spider's web of lines formed by his eyes.

"I need to talk to him."

A dozen guards, some of them the heavily armoured members of Team Luthor, pointed their guns at him.

"Drop your utility belt first."

"What if I say no?"

There was a rattling sound of a dozen guns slotting their bullets into place.

"Last warning!"

There was a clattering sound as his utility belt dropped to the floor.

Luthor grinned. "Chain him."

With a clanking sound one of the Team Luthor men stomped next to the Batman and attached some huge metal handcuffs that looked like they would be better off holding a bear.

"My advice to you – and your followers – would be to leave," the Batman said quietly, not taking his eyes off the figure in the energy field. "Now."

"You're in no position to barter, Batman."

"I am tiring of your company. Understand me, Luthor? I do not wish to hurt you or your men, but unless you leave now I will. And I will only hurt you. The creature you have ensnared here will kill you."

"Your arrogance is overwhelming," said Luthor, "You are chained. I have your weapons and a dozen guards and you threaten me? Have you lost your wits?"

* * *

Stay out of its way. The words echoed through Robin's mind as he scrabbled up the side of the alleyway.

Easier said than done.

Beneath him the huge Joker werewolf, with a definite hint of hyena in there, was leaping up the side of the alleyway towards him.

The bricks were old and slippery with moss and lichen. Handholds were few and far between. All in all, even for a boy of his skill it was quite a tricky climb. He had climbed the outside of the town hall last winter when the whole west side had been a sheet of ice from where the water pipe had burst outside. And Two-face's gang had been shooting at him as well. However, now he had a huge beast beneath leaping up at him.

The Joker's teeth clashed together like a steel trap. He stole a glance beneath him and rather wished he hadn't. The Joker's eyes glittered red and his jaws were open like the beast was grinning. A smile full of gleaming sharp fangs.

The beast seemed to shake and a rumbling emerged from him as the unearthly laughing howl of the hyena erupted from him and echoed round the alleyway.

The beast leapt again, this time his teeth nearly caught his cloak.

Relax.

Calm down. While he was doing this he could see the police hastily evacuating the block around him. All he had to do was keep laughing boy happy.

And not fall off this wall.

His questing right foot found a worn section of mortar into which his toes planted. His left hand found the windowsill he had been searching for and he pulled himself up three feet and balanced on a space that would look crowded with two pigeons on it.

Crack. Crick. Crack.

He looked beneath and he could see the Joker clambering up the wall, his claws making holes in the brick works where there was none before.

Unbidden, his hand reached to his belt to get a line.

No. He had to keep the Joker occupied, not escape and leave him to the police. The moonlight gave the whole tableau an eerie yellow tinge. He grimaced as he saw the flash of a camera from the police cordon.

Some idiot was taking a picture of it. The Joker beast squinted at this and peered down the alleyway towards the people.

Towards the victims.

No, must keep the beast occupied.

"Hey, hairy!"

The beast, still staring at the cordon and the flashing camera, started lowering himself back into the alleyway.

"Yeah you, big nose! I'm talking to you! Oi, big nose! The one with the big nose! Hairy! Big nose! Bone breath!" His loud voice had an almost sing song annoying quality to it.

The Joker beast ignored him. He had reached the bottom of the alleyway and, his red eyes glistening, started to prowl towards the cordon. The unwitting photographer was dragged off by an irate police officer.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," muttered Robin as he forced the window of the office he was next to. He quickly surveyed the small room. There was a desk covered in paper, an old Laserjet 4 printer and a computer that looked like it would be hard pressed to run Microsoft notepad let alone anything useful. The desk had several old coffee stains on it.

Would it be heavy enough? Only one way to find out. He lashed a line to it and, squaring his shoulders leaned it precariously out the window. He fed the line through a fire escape above the window and leapt out towards the Joker beast and landed not five feet from the beast, barely making a splash in the puddle he landed in.

"You know, your looks have improved, Jokey." He waved his hand in front of his nose. "Not sure about the smell though." The beast, momentarily distracted, leapt at him.


	14. The Spirit World

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Fourteen – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Robin pulled on the cord and cartwheeled back just before a huge desk landed squarely on the Joker werewolf.

The beast howled with pain; claws elongated from his paws and he ripped through the remnants of the desk. The roar changed to the laughing howl of the hyena. The Joker-beast's attention was now fully on Robin.

This was not something he was overly pleased with.

Robin dashed for the wall and started scaling it again quickly. He reached for a windowsill and pulled himself up before leaping again for the brickwork above him. His probing fingers soon found enough purchase to clamber up the sheer face of the building. The Joker beast leapt up to follow him, his claws digging into the brick work with a thunk, thunk sound.

The wall was damp here and Robin could smell the clammy odour of moss and ferns, both of which were struggling for life up here on the wall. They were not the only things.

He looked down and could see the small red eyes of the Joker-beast and his slathering jaws.

CRACK!

The beast snapped its jaws a mere centimetre from his boots. This was getting way to close for comfort. The Joker beast could climb faster than he could; the next window he got to he smashed through and rolled into a decrepit office in a shower of glass splinters and dust.

Coughing because of the dust, he sprinted to the door. Damn it, the door was locked. Hardly daring to look behind him he was cast in shadow as the huge Joker-beast clambered through the smashed window.

The door lock was strictly Mickey Mouse. He got a lock pick from his belt and tried to open it.

Stop shaking!

Breathe deeply. That's it; you've been in worse than this! His mind refused to give him details of what, but thankfully he picked the lock and opened the door and ran into the corridor. He slammed the door behind him.

Got to keep him occupied. The door behind him exploded in a shower of splinters and dust. Robin ran down the corridor closely followed by the huge werewolf. In one of the rooms ahead of him was a strange glow. He ran in, to be confronted by two men trying to cut their way into the company safe.

One of the gang whipped out a long, wickedly curved knife from his belt, and pointed it at the boy. Robin saw the glint of moonlight on the blade and the man's teeth, white in the dark.

"Slit his throat quietly and get back to work," hissed the other man as he cut through the safe.

This day is getting better and better.

* * *

The Batman lowered his face, casting his chin into shadow and giving himself a demonic look. The guards and Team Luthor men surrounding him backed off slightly at this.

From outside the building could be heard a roaring sound.

Boom!

The door exploded in a shower of splinters and metalwork as the Batmobile crashed into the building. Its onboard defence systems sent a deadly accurate hail of batarangs towards the guards and the lights, casting the room into stygian blackness.

Luthor looked at this in shock and then looked back at the Batman. Emergency lights flickered on, casting the place into an orange glow. Where the Batman had stood were the handcuffs, still rolling slightly where he had dropped them.

"Destroy that car and kill the Batman!" he roared. Some of the non-armoured guards were already dropping, stunned, to the floor. Luthor rolled to the floor and knocked over a huge walnut desk to hide behind. The top of the desk splintered and broke as a batarang loosed by the car took the top section of it away.

He swore and reached for his silver Magnum. He peered nervously over the top of the desk and nearly fainted in shock. The car was projecting half a dozen holograms of the Batman around the room. With the demonic look of the Batman and the smoke and red glow from the car it was like hell itself had spilled its madness into this room.

His armoured men were shooting at everything, and the car. Shooting at the car was worse than useless since the shots just bounced off it, sending shot and shell whining into the ceiling.

He cursed again as a shower of plaster and wood rained down on him. His men were taking this building apart in their efforts to contain the Batmobile and Batman.

Pure white smoke poured out of the bottom of the Batmobile, hiding it and its elusive master. There were several loud metallic thumps as the surviving members of Team Luthor tried to batter their way in. The smoke glowed occasionally as explosions were hidden from sight.

The sound of the car's engines reverberated around again as it reversed out of the building. The Batman was nowhere to be seen.

"He's got to be in the goddamm car! Kill him! Kill him!" roared Luthor. "Get after him and destroy that cursed car!"

Half a dozen surviving members of Team Luthor used their rocket boots to follow the Batmobile.

There was a strange silence as the car left, punctuated by the creaks and groans of the tortured, battered building. As the smoke slowly cleared he could see the unconscious forms of a dozen of his guards.

He looked back to where the energy field was holding Slade and could see that the man was slumped on the floor of the holding cell. His hair was white and his face was almost skull like. His skin was like parchment and the only evidence he was alive was his eyes flickering. After a few seconds this stopped as he breathed his last.

"God damn it!" he said. He grabbed one of the surviving technicians by the collar and dragged him in front of him. "Where the hell is the energy source that was inside Slade?"

"It seems to have gone, Mr Luthor, sir."

"Get it back." Luthor pushed the technician back to his seat. There was a metallic clicking sound. "What the…" He looked at his hand to see that the handcuff that had held Batman now held him. "Get this goddamm thing off…" He slumped unconscious to the floor as the Batman gently held his carotid artery until he was unconscious.

The Batman stared at Slade and shook his head. Whatever had possessed him had long since gone.

Three of the technicians were cowering under their desks as the Batman stalked towards them. One of them held his ground.

This technician grinned at him as he approached. "Well, well, long time no see, Batman." He raised one hand and the Batman could see some wickedly sharp claws come out of his fingers.

"You seem to have abandoned Slade."

Silence. The lights flickered on and off to this badly damaged building. The man's eyes had a strange ethereal glow to them.

"You can visit the spirit world, can you not?"

The man grinned, his smile like jagged glass.

"I need you to return a spirit to me. One taken before his time."

"Your servant Alfred?"

"Yes."

The technician closed his eyes a moment. "I see him, he is wandering the land between this world and the next, but he will not be there for long. There will be a cost."

There was several seconds of interminable silence. "What?"

"I would say your soul, fair exchange. But let's make it interesting. I will fight you for this paltry soul. If you win, you can have it."

"And if I lose?"

"I will keep your soul and his. And we will fight in a place of my choosing."

Batman looked around at the wreckage that surrounded him. He breathed deeply and steeled himself. "Name your place."

"The spirit world."

Batman gasped as the world that surrounded him disappeared, to be replaced by a desolate grey landscape. Mist surrounded him and a sun was in the distance, half shrouded by mist. This sun was cold and did not heat the landscape. The wind whistled forlornly through this landscape as if it did not want to be here. It was not the only thing.

The technician had disappeared and what was there now was a huge beast with twisted horns and razor sharp incisors. The spirit's true form. Batman's own normal black costume was now a golden colour and he had a golden shield on one arm and a golden sword held by the other. He was curiously unsurprised to see a bat embossed in gold on the shield. Unconsciously, he checked his waist to find he still had his utility belt.

"This is the world between your world and the next," rumbled the spirit.

Batman could see Alfred standing close by, looking at him in shock. "My word sir, what are you doing here? I apologise I didn't give the standard month's notice, sir, but I didn't think you would follow me to the afterlife for it?"

The huge evil spirit roared and leapt at the Batman.

* * *

The knife lunged at Robin but he had already dropped to the ground, under the swing, and he used his feet to knock the would be assassin off his feet. He grabbed the man by the chest and thumped his head against the floor. Once. Twice, then he stopped struggling.

Not graceful. Not elegant. Batman would not approve, but it was results, which counted at the moment. One of the other gang members drew a small snub-nosed pistol that Robin immediately kicked out of his hand.

"What the hell is…" The thug started to say just as the Joker beast crashed into the room.

"Oh brother." Robin kicked one of the criminals out of the window and attached him to a line to the other one. There was a scream and a thump as the other one landed outside, his fall slowed drastically by the line. Shortly followed by his colleague who at least had a softer landing.

They would be alive. Hurting and probably in need of some hospital food but both alive. Which were better odds than he would give himself at the moment.

The desk offered some small safety at the moment. The safe the hapless criminals had been trying to cut their way into was glowing slightly and making small plinking noises as it cooled.

The Joker beast gave a huge roaring sound and with a seemingly gentle swipe turned the mahogany desk into so much matchwood. Robin picked up a wooden pole that was used to open the top windows in the office and swiped it at him like it was a sword.

It was a clumsy weapon at best. Damn the advice Batman gave him about weapons. Batman had taught him to fight with a stick like he was a fencer. You respond to the opponent's move as opposed to just an instinctive reaction. You create an advantage of distance and timing and, most importantly, you do it without being hit.

Robin ignored all this and just swiped and stabbed at the Joker-beast in a vain attempt to avoid being bitten. Sweat beaded his brow and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. The Joker-beast was trying to back him into a corner. He grabbed the stick two-handed and tried to send it crashing on the werewolf's head. The Joker grabbed it with his teeth and crunched it into splinters.

The Boy Wonder jammed the rest of the stick into the Joker's mouth and vaulted over his head back into the corridor. With a howl of pain and rage the Joker beast scampered after him.

* * *

The demon facing the Batman was over twenty feet tall, and it was covered in chitinous black glistening armour. It was the true form of the evil immortal spirit. Batman lunged at the beast with his golden blade but the beast seemed to melt away before he could strike.

The demon swiped at him with a massively clawed hand. The Batman raised his shield and there was a horrendous clanging sound. He hissed with pain as the claws pierced the shield and stabbed into his upper arm. He could feel blood run down his arm.

Even in this spirit world he could suffer physical pain.

"Dear god!"

"Stay behind me, Alfred."

He ran at the demon and swept his sword like a scythe at him. The demon howled with pain as he took one of its clawed fingers off. Green smoke poured out from where he had wounded it.

Surrounding him he could see a line of souls, stretched as far as the eye could see. All victims of this demon.

The demon's tail swept round and caught the Batman squarely on the side, sending him flying into a dried out dead tree. The branches cracked and fell on top of him.

A spasm of pain took him. Ignore the pain. Ignore it. He grabbed a branch and threw it at the demon as it leapt towards him. The branch disintegrated as the demon, in an almost irritated way, batted it out of his way.

He's got the advantage of reach and strength, Batman thought. I need to get under those huge arms of his or behind him to use this sword effectively. The demon swiped at him but this time Batman rolled under it and started hacking at its feet.

Clink! Clink!

The sword just bounced off its armour. Some sort of sixth sense alerted the Batman to the danger and he leapt to one side just before a huge armoured fist pounded the ground where he had been.

The demon roared with rage again and this time started kicking at the Batman.

This was not good; the sword was useless against the armour. He ran back and studied his opponent.

Get rid of the fear. Fear is useless. He's big, that's for sure, but if I can dig this sword under the armour…

"Take that!" Alfred started throwing rocks at the demon. "And that!"

"Alfred, leave it to me."

"With respect sir, I am already dead and you look like you need all the help you can get."

The demon roared as the rocks bounced harmlessly off its head. Like a huge wolf it got to all four feet and leapt towards Alfred.

* * *

Robin ran through the darkened corridors. Behind him he could hear the crashing sound as the huge werewolf bounded towards him. The sound echoed through the empty offices. The beast overturned tables and filing cabinets as it chased after him.

Robin's breath was loud in his ears as he ran. He did not dare look back, his ears telling him where his belligerent pursuer was. He crashed painfully through fire doors and raced up empty staircases.

He passed several motivating posters designed to depress their work staff. Stay out of its way and make sure no civilians are hurt, the Batman's last command echoed through his mind.

How the hell are you meant to stay out of the way of a huge supernatural wolf?

Time to vacate this poor office block. He must be on the seventh or eighth floor by now. He ran to a window and kicked a metal waste paper basket straight through the glass. It shattered and broke and he leapt through the gap, jagged glass just inches away from him on all sides, and into the cool night air eight floors above the ground.

* * *

The Batman used his shield to push Alfred out of the demon's way. He then crouched to the ground, hiding behind his shield when the demon struck him. It hit him like a runaway train. He was sent flying back thirty feet where he was only stopped by an old dead tree. The tree cracked and groaned under the pressure and fell in a cloud of dust and debris.

"Aaaaah!"

Batman groaned woozily as he tried to get to his feet. Only his instincts made him duck as a razor sharp claw swiped at him at throat height. He recovered quickly from the dizziness. Part of his training had involved hours of getting purposefully dizzy, and then fighting and target practice immediately afterwards. It helped him recover from being hit straight away. In a fight if you are dizzy you are down and if you are down you are dead.

There had to be a weak spot to this monster?

Had to be?

Had to.

The beast was big, strong, and fast, but he might be able to use that against him. If he stayed alive long to do that. He rolled through the beast's legs, coming up behind the monster, and swung his sword viciously at its tail.

"Eeaaaahhh!"

The demon leapt up in the air, ancient leathery wings giving it flight. The Batman clung onto its tail and scrambled up its back. He jammed one foot under a huge scale and then started stabbing at the beast.

The wind whistled past him and the view changed stomach-lurchingly about him as the beast started trying to throw him off.

Fear is lack of confidence in the situation you are in. Batman never lacked confidence with his skills. Even with the beast flapping his huge leathery wings about him he continued stabbing down, his incredible sense of balance stopping him falling. Specks of blue light shot out of the beast as he at last started damaging it.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Little gnat!"

Batman looked up in shock. A huge bright light was above him and they were flying straight for it.

"That is a one-way door, little gnat. I can not go there but your soul can never return from it."

* * *

The Boy Wonder twisted in midair and reached for a grappling hook from his belt. With unerring aim he twisted it around a fire escape and was swinging through the cool night air.

Robin looked back and he saw the huge form of a werewolf leaping towards him. It was giving a cackling laugh as it did.

Robin abandoned his grappling hook and trusted to gravity. The Joker werewolf gave an almost comical double take as it flew overhead and crashed through a window on the other side of the alleyway.

Robin did not see any of this since he was too busy falling to care.


	15. The final battle

Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. With grateful thanks for cmar for beta reading this chapter and thanks for all the reviews so far! All reviews welcome!

**Chapter Fifteen – Batman – Time of the Wolf**

Robin pulled a grappling hook from his belt and threw it at a fire escape. The line tightened, there was a horrible creaking sound as the rusty fire escape gave up the unequal struggle, and the line loosened again as the boy continued his plummet down.

"Must cut down on my doughnuts!"

* * *

The light was blinding him. It was like a spotlight was cast on his soul and it seemed to seer away the years from him and leave him floating towards it. The demon beneath him seemed to struggle to escape its influence.

The Batman wrapped a line round the demon's arm, one of his high tensile lines, and attached a small rocket-powered grappling hook to it. This he fired straight at the light. Some sort of force caught it and started to drag the demon and the Batman towards it.

"No, you fool! You will kill us both!" For once the demon's face showed panic.

The light was blinding now, all there was of this world. Bruce could hear voices.

"Bruce."

"Son! Come into the light, son, for too long you have been away from us, away from your family!"

Two silhouettes, achingly familiar, appeared in the distance. His heart, seemingly made of stone after years fighting the worst kind of crime, lurched.

His parents were there to greet him.

The only cause for his relentless conquest against the Gotham underworld. He could at last see them again.

He needed nothing more. He felt like the small boy he had once been. "Ma? Is that you?" His deep husky voice cracked.

"Come into the light, son, join us again."

The light was as strong as the sun and the influence was like the gravity of a black hole on his soul. He could not fight it.

Could not or would not?

No. His parents were dead, nothing he could do could stop that, but he was still alive, and a city of the weak and the oppressed cried out for his help.

"I must return, I will see you again at the end of my life, and that is not today."

The demon was being dragged into the light by the line. Something in the light was pulling inexorably at the line.

"NO!" The demon cried. His clawed hands grabbed at the Batman and dug into his shoulder. "NO! If I go, you come with me!" The demon seemed to shiver, then blue lightning coursed over his scaly body and over the Batman.

"AAAARRGHHH!"

It was a pain beyond anything the Batman had ever experienced. Every bone felt like it was on fire, every nerve had been stripped bare and dipped in molten lava.

No!

Concentrate.

Pain is nothing, you are nothing. He felt a cooling sensation over his body and he looked again at the demon under his boots.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" The demon grabbed the line that had been dragging him into the light and laughed. The energy might not have dislodged the masked man but it had cut the line. "You are too strong; I will leave your soul here to wander the desert for an eternity!"

* * *

The Boy Wonder looked up at the disintegrating fire escape. His view changed dizzyingly from sky to ground to sky again as he tumbled through the air. His belt was empty of grappling hooks and the ground below was sadly empty of soft landings.

He reached a hand out against the wall and grabbed a passing window ledge. There was a creaking and groaning sound as the sill collapsed under his grasp and he continued falling, this time with falling masonry for company.

* * *

"Bring him to us, son," said his father.

"We can help you, son," said his mother.

Batman wrapped a line round the demon and was just about to throw it to them when he frowned.

He looked up at where his parents had been and gasped in shock. Where they had stood were two rotting skeletons, skin hanging off them and eyes gleaming red.

"I rule here, me," said the demon, throwing the Batman between the corpses.

"It's your fault we are dead, Bruce."

"You killed us, son."

Batman rolled to his feet and realised he was on the ground again, this time surrounded by the corpses of his parents, and a dozen more came shuffling into view.

"You are not my parents," he said while backing away.

"Well done, boy." The skeleton morphed and changed into the face of the demon. "But you will die all the same."

* * *

It is often said that the prospect of death concentrates the mind wonderfully and this is true. For Robin the world seemed to slow as if to make his last few seconds in it more memorable. The brick next to him seemed to pirouette gracefully through the air. His own cloak, now rather battered, flapped helplessly.

Being able to fly suddenly seemed like a useful skill to have. Batman tended to dismiss it as a useless parlour trick by some of his showier colleagues in the Justice League.

Something thumped into him at great speed and he seemed to be flying. For a heart stopping moment he thought he was, then he saw he was in the jaws of the huge Joker beast and suddenly falling to his death seemed like a memory of a happier time.

* * *

The Batman used the White Crane stance to fight the demons. This was using the fingers like a bird's beak to punch them down. This was a move he had used hundreds of times to defeat criminals, but this was the first time the punch had disintegrated the demonic image in front of him.

The laugh of the demon echoed and re-echoed around him.

"I will play with your mind before ripping out your soul."

The Batman winced as he was surrounded by bright light.

"Ooofff!"

The Joker beast landed on all four paws in the middle of the alleyway. Robin pressed a button on his belt, closed his eyes, and held his breath. There was a hissing sound and the Batman's own version of pepper spray surrounded him. The Joker Beast dropped the Boy Wonder like a rag doll. He rolled to his feet and started running. Behind him the Joker Beast was coughing and howling in pain.

It would not slow him down for long.

His armoured costume had saved him from the beast's teeth but he would have some wonderful bruises in the morning, assuming there was a morning.

Gotham City had originally been built like most of the other American cities, in a grid pattern. Space had never been a premium in most of these places so they could expand. Gotham had been like that originally but it had suffered much over the past few years with earthquakes, fires and several meta-human fights that had reduced much of it to rubble, and when it was rebuilt the original plans were ignored. The alleyways now snaked through the city, seemingly at random. Robin absolutely loved this since he could easily lose a predator in it.

He hoped.

He scampered through the alleys of Gotham, turning left, then right, then right again. He would lose this beast if it was the last thing he would do.

Not the best turn of phrase. He could hear the Joker Beast behind him thumping against walls, crashing against dumpsters and smashing through boxes as it tried to keep up.

He pressed his communicator button. "Batman, Batman?"

There was nothing but static.

"Come on B? Answer?"

Damn it! He slightly adjusted the frequency. "Oracle, you there, babe?"

"Yes, I'm here. Call me babe again and you'll wish I wasn't, pint size."

"I gotta a problem here." Behind him he could hear a howling sound.

"Just a second, I'll check the cameras." There was a moment's silence then a low whistling sound. "Cute puppy after you. I don't think the Batman will let you keep it."

"I don't want to keep it; I want to get away from it."

"You've got a stalker? Wow, just like the movie stars."

"Don't make me come up there, Oracle! Just tell me how to get out of here! I've got no grappling hooks left, this beasty boy can climb and he's hot on my tail!"

"Okay, keep your cloak on, take the next left and fast."

Robin raced down another alleyway. This ended on one of the streets in Gotham's fabled West End. Several top-flight musicals were going on and crowds snaked around the corner, all after the first tickets of the opening night. Half a dozen hot dog stands were doing a roaring trade.

"Hey!"

Robin pushed himself through the crowds. "Excuse me! Coming through!"

"Hey you jerk, whaa..?"

Behind him the Joker Beast pushed himself through the crowds. He was so intent on catching the Boy Wonder he ignored the crowds around him. All around him were the screaming sounds as the Joker Beast was spotted and the crowds scattered.

"Keep going, Robin, next left."

He dove down another alleyway; this one ran to the side of two theatres. One of the fire doors opened, illuminating the alleyway in a dirty yellow light as one of the stagehands popped out for a quiet cigarette. He quickly closed the door again as he saw the Joker Beast lolloping towards him. Curiously, he never smoked again after that.

"Do you even know where I'm going?"

"Jump."

"What?"

"Jump up now."

Robin looked up and could see a fire escape just three feet above his head. He wall kicked to gain height and grabbed hold of it. Seconds later the ladder thumped to the ground and he started climbing it. He had a choice of left or right at the top of the building and he went left.

"I meant you to turn right."

"Tough."

He could hear a clanging sound and see the fire escape shake as the Joker beast clambered up it.

"You're off my cameras."

"Good." Robin looked wild eyed at the edge of the building; he looked behind him to see the Joker beast creeping up on him. Caught between the wolf and the deep dark chasm.

"He, he, ha, HA, HA!"

* * *

Batman groaned as he rolled to his feet. Where was he?

He was back in the mansion. How did he get back here?

"Brucey? Where are you?" He heard a familiar voice reverberating around him. "Your son is too good at hiding at bath time."

"How come he's my son when he's bad and yours when he's good?"

"He has to be up here somewhere. You couldn't herd Alfred into helping us look, could you."

That was his parents? What was going on? He looked behind him and realised he was under his bed from when he was a child. His Lego space station he had built under there was next to him and the box he had his action men stuff in.

He clambered out under his bed to see his bedroom from years ago. There was a mirror there and he looked at the chubby, blue-eyed face of an eight year old.

"We'll find you Brucey!" warbled his mother's voice through the door. "We'll find you!" Her voice deepened to that of the demon.

He reached a hand down to his waist. Oh brother. Where before he would have had a utility belt at the best and at the very least a muscular stomach was now a stomach that had had too many treats and not enough exercise. The beast was playing with his mind.

He ran to the sash window and tried to open it. Too many years of paint had melded it shut, and just to make sure he couldn't escape his parents had nailed it shut. The Batman would have forced this window in a second but an eight-year-old boy had neither the strength or skill to do that. A red glow appeared under the doorway.

"We'll find you, son!"

* * *

"He, he, he, urrrggh!" There was a creaking sound and cracks snaked sinuously over the roof. The Joker Beast padded towards Robin when more cracks snaked out around him.

Puffs of dust erupted around him and half the roof collapsed, sending the Joker Beast plummeting towards the ground in the abandoned theatre.

"Oh sh….!" Robin's comment was thankfully cut off as the collapsing roof cracked and fell around him as well making him fall painfully into the dusty auditorium.

"You alright Robin?"

"Oh god."

"I said you should have turned left."

"You said I should have turned right!"

"I meant right, anyway on the plus side I can see you on the security cameras."

"And on the minus?"

"That cute little puppy is sitting by the building's only exit."

* * *

The Batboy threw himself back under his bed and crawled to the end. He knew there was an old ventilator here. He had unscrewed it when he was seven and hidden a lot of his favourite toys here. He had also gone exploring in the walls of the house. He had gotten covered in dust and cobwebs but he knew a way round the house that only a child could go.

As an adult he had put in a few secret doors and heavily armoured panic rooms. They were not there now of course. Still.

"Brucey! Brucey! Brucey! We'll have your darling little head unless you come out!" The demonic voice in the guise of his mother echoed around the house.

He put a foot down on his comics he had kept there and started to squeeze through the crawl space.

This was all wrong.

You don't win battles by retreating. But what could he do now? This was an immortal demon and he now had the body of an eight year old!

Where could he go?

He needed weapons. If this landscape was an accurate portrayal of his mansion when he was eight then none of the Batman's tools and weapons would be available to him. But his father had a collection of medieval weapons he and his family had picked up over the years.

The dust in the air nearly made him gag. He carried on, trying to breathe as little as possible; if he had a coughing fit they would know where he was. He could see a small glimmer of light in front of him. It was another ventilator. If memory served it was the hallway by an armoured knight. One armed with a sword.

He just had to hope he was strong enough to use it. He peered cautiously through the vent and then quietly levered it open. He used to use this route to escape Alfred when it was bath night. He looked out again and this time saw a pair of black shiny shoes and pin striped trousers.

* * *

"You've got to try and clamber out the toilet window in the back of this building."

"Clamber out the toilet window in an abandoned theatre? My heroic life has come to this?"

"Well, you either go out that way or in the stomach of the Joker Beast."

* * *

"Dear me, Master Bruce, I haven't seen you like this for years!" Alfred was leaning against the armoured knight that had stood guard at the top of the Wayne Mansion staircase for a generation.

"Alfred, is it you?"

"Indubitably, sir. I seem to have been drawn into this nightmare the same as you. I must admit I haven't felt this young for years! Although not as young as you, sir. Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"

"I want you to get rid of the demon!"

"I've told you before sir, there are no monsters under the bed."

"Well, what's that then!" Bruce pointed behind Alfred, his eyes wide open in fear.

* * *

Robin ran through the deserted theatre. Past posters advertising past glories. The red carpet was old and moth eaten and in front of him rats scampered away. Behind him the beast was approaching.

"Turn left here."

"That's the ladies! I can't go in there!"

"Stop complaining!"

"Okay, I'm there, I'm there. Hopefully that will stop the Joker as well."

There was the sound of a huge beast barging through the door.

"Okay, maybe not." The Boy Wonder cart-wheeled through the room and smashed foot first through the narrow window at the top of the room. He landed in the alleyway in a pile of black rubbish sacks, spilling their foetid matter into Gotham.

BANG!

The Joker Beast tried the same manoeuvre but was way too big for the window. There was a creaking and groaning sound as the brickwork gave up the unequal struggle and fell into the alleyway in a welter of dust and rubble. The beast shook his head to clear the dust and started to lope after Robin.

* * *

Behind Alfred, darkness formed. The monster; there to take his soul. In every second it seemed to get more solid, more real.

Alfred levered the sword out of the knight's hand and swung it at the shadow beast as it was forming. There was a hissing sound from the demon. Alfred started shouting. "YOU LEAVE MASTER BRUCE ALONE!"

"Aaaah!" The shadow was split into two, then four. Alfred continued to hack at it but his strength was failing and the sword dropped at Bruce's feet. "Ha! Ha! Ha! You can not stop me, old man, when I have finished with his soul I will burn yours for a millennia." The demonic soul started to reform.

Bruce picked up the sword. It was old rusty and heavy. Too heavy for a child to carry.

This was not a proper reality. He concentrated on the sword and it started glowing in the darkness. It suddenly felt light as a feather and he seemed to grow as he raised it above him.

He was no child, he was a man.

The Batman.

He picked up the heavy sword like it was a feather and slashed it at the demon, slicing the shadow beast into pieces. The glowing sword seemed to slice and burn the demon with each cut.

"This is impossible!" Blue light burst out of the demon like a laser burst. "No mortal can beat me! This is my world!"

"No, this is my world," said Bruce.

"And mine," added Alfred, as he picked up another sword to attack the demon.

"You have lost," said Bruce, looking at the demon as it shrivelled out of existence.

The sword thumped down from where Alfred was holding it. "Oh dear?" He seemed to fade out of existence himself.

With a sound like a thunderclap the demon disappeared and the mansion shimmered out of sight as the creature's world disappeared.

* * *

This was the place the dead went.

The morgue was cold, white and clinical. Several bodies were awaiting an autopsy. The first one was an old alcoholic whom the police had found in the streets of Gotham. He was not too far-gone and he had the green marbling effect on his body caused by jaundice that was due to alcoholism. He was starting to smell so he got moved to the front of the queue for the autopsy.

There was also a homicide from two shots, one in the chest and one in the stomach. That was fresh and the police were in no hurry for the results back.

Morris and Dennis, the pathologists, were taking a well-deserved break on a small table at the side of the room. Morris looked at his cards and winced. He then looked up and tried to look smug. He just had two pair, which was not much.

He looked at the pot on the table. "I'll see your forceps," he said pushing a pair of forceps on the table, "and raise you a scalpel."

Dennis looked at what he had left. "I'll up you to a kidney dish."

"I'll see you." Morris looked up at a rustling noise. "What's that noise?"

"What's that noise?" asked Dennis. "What's that noise! Do you see something? I'm sure that one moved! You're like a broken record! We are in a mortuary! The only things alive here are us, and sometimes I wonder about you!"

"Don't you believe in cadaveric spasm or ghosts?" Morris gave a mysterious voice. "We are surrounded by the undead spirits of the underworld!"

"Well, they could do something useful like tell me what cards you have."

Alfred sat up like an undead vampire and after blinking a few times looked at Morris's cards. "He's only got two pair, sir, I think your hand should beat him."

The next sound was two thumps rather close together as the pathologists fainted.

* * *

The heavy thumping sound of the Joker Beast behind Robin stopped. He looked back quizzically to see a naked Joker trying to find a box or anything to cover himself up. The moonlight still glinted on the alleyway.

"There is normally more rubbish in this city than in the entire western world! Why is there nothing here now to cover me!" In the end he just stood there rather sheepishly, his hands covering what needed to be covered. "There is never a pair of purple pants when you need it! If I get a reputation as a flasher I'll never live it down!"

* * *

Batman groaned as he woke up. He was still on the floor of the building where he had faced off against Luthor and his henchmen. Luthor was still unconscious and chained up where he had left him. Rivulets of dust streamed down gently from the ceiling making small eddies in the moonlight.

He had to get out of here. He looked down and was reassured to see his utility belt. He pressed a button on his belt and was relieved to hear the throaty sound of the car's engine start. It had performed its programmed duties and hidden itself nearby as the members of Team Luthor hunted for it.

He shuffled out into the open and waited a few seconds for the car to turn up. With a hissing sound the roof opened and he leapt in. Shortly afterwards he was hurtling back to the mansion.

Was it over?

Truly?

The moonlight still glinted overhead. He pulled over in a rest area and, breathing deeply, he opened the roof. Should he take his cowl off? It was the only way to be sure. He flicked the release mechanism of his adapted metal cowl and looked up to face the moon.

There was no tingling sensation to indicate a change. He allowed himself a smile.

A chirruping sound came from his communicator. "Terribly sorry to disturb you, Master Bruce. I seem to have woken up in hospital sans clothes and no finances to get back home. I apologise for disturbing you for such a minor inconvenience but if you could see your way to…"

"Alfred, I'll be there shortly."

"Am I to take it your animal instincts have left you, sir?"

"The wolf has gone, only the Bat is left."


End file.
